Transformers Reimagined
by JJ Rust
Summary: My version of the first movie, with more fleshed out characters, a revised storyline and no Shia Labeouf. In this "movie," Lennox and Simmons discover an alien artifact in the Iraqi desert. The Autobots and the Decepticons race to claim it, making Earth the newest battleground in their centuries-long war.
1. Chapter 1

_Qatar, Arabian Peninsula. May 2nd, 2007._

* * *

Whenever someone showed up at a military base wearing a dark suit and bland red tie, you knew it was going to be a bad day.

That's what Captain William Lennox thought as he entered General Sharpe's office. He cast his gaze to the suited man with dark hair and tan skin sitting in front of the base commander's desk, one leg crossed over the other. The guy didn't seem like the typical government bureaucrat. He was middle-aged, but appeared in decent shape. Lennox also picked up an aura to this guy. He may dress like a DC desk jockey, but he had seen action before.

The Suit gave him an insincere smile.

_Yeah, this isn't gonna be good._

"Captain Lennox reporting as ordered." He saluted Sharpe. The bald, stocky general returned it.

"Have a seat, Captain." Sharpe waved him to the other plastic folding chair next to The Suit.

"A pleasure to meet you, Captain Lennox." The Suit reached out his hand, that plastic smile still on his hawkish face. "The General's been telling me all about you."

"Thank you." Lennox gave him the briefest of handshakes. "And you are . . .?"

"Simmons. CIA."

"Uh-huh." Lennox had worked with Agency types before during his Special Forces career. Some were good, others a pain in the ass. His gut told him Simmons was in the latter category.

"I'm very impressed with your file, very impressed."

"Thank you." Lennox noted the tone on Simmons's voice. He sounded more like a politician trying to garner a vote than someone genuinely impressed.

"You got two different tribes in Southern Afghanistan to work together to fight the Taliban, captured three high value targets in Iraq. Then, of course, there's your Silver Star for rescuing the crew of a downed Blackhawk under fire."

"You said you wanted my best man, Lennox is it," said General Sharpe.

Lennox let out an impatient breath. "If I may, General, what's this about?"

Other senior officers would probably get pissed about Lennox's bluntness. Not Sharpe, thankfully. The CO of Joint Special Operations Command Base Qatar respected Lennox's disdain for bullshit.

The general grinned. "I'll let Mister Simmons explain."

"Thank you." Simmons shifted in his chair to face Lennox. "There's really nothing to this mission, at least for you and your men."

Lennox said nothing, just nodded. Red lights and warning klaxons erupted in his brain. Whenever anyone told a special ops soldier there was "nothing to" a mission, the opposite was usually true.

"If there's nothing to it, why do you need someone like me? You can bring the mess hall crew with you. It'd do 'em good to get out and about."

Simmons chuckled softly. "Funny, Captain." He removed a piece of paper from a manila folder and laid it on Sharpe's desk. A red X had been drawn in an area of Southern Iraq.

"Two days ago," said Simmons, "elements of the Third Battalion, First Marines came upon a cave system approximately eighteen miles west of Basra. They engaged a small number of insurgents and discovered they'd been using the cave to store weapons and ammunition. But that's not what interests me."

"What does interest you about the place?" asked Lennox.

"The Marines found something that's . . . unrelated to American operations in Iraq."

"What would that be?"

Simmons's plastic smile grew wider. "Sorry, Captain. That's on a need to know basis."

Lennox grunted. "And I don't need to know, of course."

"Of course. I've been assigned by my superiors to collect what the Marines found. You and your men will be assigned to protect this . . . precious cargo until we return here. Then one of our planes will take it back to our base."

"Simple as that."

"Simple as that." Simmons tacked on a reassuring smile that made Lennox feel anything but reassured.

"So what's the nature of this 'precious cargo.'?"

"Classified."

"Okay, then. Is this thing something that will kill us if we breathe it in or make us grow an extra head?"

"All I can say is, you and your men will not need any MOPP gear." Simmons used the acronym for Mission Oriented Protective Posture, suits designed to protect soldiers from the effects of chemical, biological, radiological or nuclear strikes.

After a pause, Simmons continued. "Captain, all you and your men have to do is stand around with your guns, look tough and make sure nothing happens to our precious cargo. Once I leave Qatar, you can go back to your usual Green Beret John Wayne type stuff. Okay?"

Lennox glared at him, then looked over to Sharpe. The general shrugged in resignation. "His orders check out, Captain. We're to give Mister Simmons whatever support he asks for."

"Yes, sir. If there's nothing more, I better go brief my guys." Lennox stood, adding under his breath, "Not that there's much to brief 'em on."

"Dismissed, Captain."

Lennox saluted and stepped toward the door.

"Oh, Captain."

He turned back to Simmons. "Yeah?"

"Make sure along with your rifles and machine guns, bring along some stuff that goes boom."

Lennox's brow furrowed. "Any particular reason why?"

"Let's just chalk it up to the old saying, 'Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.'"

Lennox didn't think he could grow any more suspicious of this mission, but Simmons proved him wrong. He looked over to General Sharpe. The concern in the other man's eyes was evident. Lennox easily read Sharpe's unspoken message.

_Watch your ass._

With one final, wary look at Simmons, Lennox exited the base commander's office.

_You bet your ass I'm gonna watch my ass._

**XXXXX**

Lennox tried to reign in his apprehension as he marched along the tarmac with the seven other men in his unit. He eyed Simmons standing by the open rear ramp of a V-22 Osprey tilt-rotor. The guy still wore that damn dark suit of his. Lennox, meanwhile, was loaded down with his usual combat gear, along with some last minute additions. He had attached an M203 grenade launcher under the barrel of his M4 rifle. Two 12-round bandoliers of extra grenades criss-crossed his lean torso. He also carried extra hand grenades and four blocks of C4.

If Simmons wanted him to bring stuff that went boom, Lennox was damn sure going to load up.

"Look at that asshole." A tall, slender black man next to Lennox nodded toward Simmons. "Just standing there like he owns the place. I haven't even met the dude and already I don't like him."

"Just wait," Lennox said to Technical Sergeant Robert Epps, the Air Force Combat Controller assigned to the team. "When you do meet him, you'll find out he's even a bigger asshole."

"I don't know, Captain," A stout Hispanic man with two-day old stubble spoke. "This whole thing sounds pretty sketch."

"You don't have to tell me, Fig," Lennox answered Staff Sergeant Jorge Figueroa.

"I mean, what the hell's so friggin' top secret this douchebag can't tell us?" Fig shifted the AT4 rocket launcher slung over his right shoulder.

Epps looked over his shoulder at him. "Maybe they found Osama bin Laden's address on a Post-It note."

"Maybe they found a crashed UFO," said a skinny soldier with glasses. "You know, like at Roswell."

The beefy soldier behind Sergeant Donnelly groaned. "You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?"

Donnelly swung around, walking backwards as he spoke with First Sergeant Lieberthal. "C'mon, Top. How many stories are there about the US Government hiding evidence of extra-terrestrial life?"

"How many stories are there about vampires and leprechauns? Doesn't make them real, does it?"

"Whatever this dipshit Simmons is gonna have us do," said Epps, "I just hope it doesn't get us all killed."

"Amen to that." Lennox took a long pull of water from the nozzle of his Camelbak. It wasn't even 1300 Hours yet and already the temperature was in triple digits. Sweat slid down his round face and dampened the close-cropped dark hair under his desert boonie hat. It was bound to be a hell of a lot hotter when they reached Iraq.

"Gentlemen." Simmons smile looked even more fake than the average stewardess welcoming you aboard an airliner. "Good to see you all. Let's get squared away. Iraq awaits."

He turned and strode up the Osprey's ramp.

"Yup. You're right." Epps looked at Lennox. "He's an even bigger asshole than I thought."

The Spec Ops team headed into the cargo hold of the V-22, with Donnelly saying, "I hope the in-flight movie's good."

Minutes later, the tilt-rotor, with its shark-like fuselage and massive wingtip propellers, was airborne and heading northwest. Simmons ignored the team, which was fine with Lennox. He had no interest in getting to know the jagoff who wouldn't tell them dick about this mission. He just pressed his back against the aircraft's hull, staring over the heads of the soldiers across from him. Lennox prayed everything went smoothly and Simmons would be out of his hair, and his life, as soon as possible.

He turned his thoughts away from CIA dickheads and "need to know" missions and thought about his wife Sarah and their two-month-old daughter Annabelle.

The daughter he had yet to see.

A lump formed in his throat. Lennox couldn't think of anything more he wanted in his entire life than to just hold little Annabelle in his arms.

_One more month. _Thirty-three days to be exact, then he'd rotate back to The States.

He looked at Simmons. _Unless this asshole gets me killed._

Something buzzed in the CIA man's pocket. He pulled out a satellite phone. "Simmons . . . what?"

The shocked tone in Simmons's voice made the other soldiers turn to him.

"When . . . How . . . I thought it was stable. How the hell could a sinkhole form . . . Get it covered, ASAP . . . I don't care with what, I want covered. Now." He thumbed then end button. "Dammit."

Simmons shoved the satphone in his pocket and stomped toward the flight deck.

Epps leaned closer to Lennox. "That didn't sound good."

"No, it didn't."

Lennox chewed on his lower lip as he turned toward the front of the Osprey, where Simmons was demanding the pilots go faster.

_What the hell did we get ourselves into?_

**XXXXX**

Soundwave, in the form of a communications satellite, stared down at the Earth, just as he had for decades, since the almighty Megatron assigned him to this world. An ugly world. Too blue, too white, too organic for him. He preferred the vast, metallic landscape of Cybertron, or the other worlds the Decepticons had mecha-formed.

But this was his mission, assigned to him by Megatron. He would perform it without question, without complaint. Hopefully, he would find what he'd been searching for all this time. The key to restore not only the Decepticon army, but Cybertron itself, to its former glory.

At least the humans kept him entertained. While they may be small, frail and made of flesh, they had excelled in their capacity to destroy one another. Granted, their weapons were primitive compared to those wielded by Transformers, but they still slaughtered each other in droves. He pulled in video feeds of helicopters firing rockets at a group of so-called terrorists in Afghanistan. Another group of so-called terrorists fired primitive – even by human standards – rockets into the small nation of Israel. Tuareg rebels and army troops traded small arms fire near a village in the Kidal Region of Mali. Even outside of the war zones there was plenty of violence. Police in New York engaged in a gun battle with a group of White Supremacists. A human who apparently consumed a large amount of the mind-altering liquid known as alcohol led police in Manchester, England on a high-speed chase that resulted in damage to a dozen vehicles. Civilians and riot police clashed in Rio de Janeiro over . . . something. Soundwave didn't know exactly what. Maybe some government policy, maybe a sporting event. Humans did not need much reason to act like savage organic beasts.

_They may destroy each other before we have the opportunity to do it._

Soundwave was watching a video of a group of bearded men beheading another man in the name of the entity they worshipped when his sensors picked up a harsh, clicking sound. He shut down all other feeds, concentrating on the new signal.

This was it! This was what he had been searching for for the past few decades. Finally, the rebirth of the Decepticon Empire was within their grasp.

"Soundwave to Dirge. Signal detected. Transmitting coordinates. Move to secure."

**XXXXX**

Bumblebee knew how important his current assignment was, how the very future of the Autobots might depend on it.

Still, how could he not have fun on Earth?

He sat in the parking lot of the Galleria at Pittsburgh Mills, one of those large, indoor shopping structures the humans loved so much. His sensors had tapped into various computer networks, broadcast antennas and satellite dishes. If "the signal" was anywhere in the Western Hemisphere, Bumblebee would detect it.

But he did not pick up any signal today, or any other day during his sixty plus years on Earth. He might have succumb to boredom had it not been for two of the humans greatest inventions.

Radio and television.

"_Do you still think I'm crazy standin' here today? I couldn't make you love me, but I always dreamed about living in your radio. How do you like me now?"_

Joy flowed through Bumblebee. He so enjoyed Toby Keith, and Clint Black and Led Zeppelin and the Beatles and Aretha Franklin and Within Temptation and thousands of other singers and bands. And new ones debuted on the airwaves every year, like that Taylor Swift female. What a voice she had!

_I love Earth. _But he knew the day would come when his mission here would be over. Either he found what he'd been looking for all these years, or Optimus Prime would recall him. Maybe it would be tomorrow, maybe it would fifty years from now. But it would happen. Sure he had countless hours of music, TV shows and movies stored in his memory banks, but he would miss out on all the new ones the humans came up with year in and year out. He'd also have to give up his latest chassis, a gold and black Chevy Camero, his coolest one ever.

_But I am keeping my Earth name. _He'd grown fond of it, much more than his Cybertronian name.

Bumblebee switched from the radio to the TV, picking up _Doctor Who. _He couldn't even begin to point out all the scientific inaccuracies of that show. Still, it was entertaining. He also had to admit the Daleks were badasses. They could probably give the Autobots a heck of fight, if they were real.

_Or imagine them against the Decepticons._

How many of those murderous rustbuckets could the Daleks destroy before –

"Heeeey, Bumblebee!" A high-pitched, nasally voice came over his radio.

"I read you, Powerglide. What is it?"

"Are you ready for this? I found it."

"Found what?"

"The signal!" Powerglide blurted. "You know, the thing Optimus sent us to planet for how many years ago?"

Bumblebee found himself lost for words. It took a second to process. The signal. _The _signal. Could it be true? Was the end of this mission within sight?

"Where is it?"

"The Arabian Peninsula. I'm transmitting rendezvous coordinates to you now. Let's move on this, Bee."

"I'm way ahead of you. See you soon."

Tires squealing, Bumblebee peeled out of the parking space and sped off.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	2. Chapter 2

A shudder went through the Osprey as it touched down. Lennox and the rest of the Spec Ops team stood as the aircraft's crew chief opened the rear ramp.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" Simmons donned his sunglasses and picked up a gray, metallic container roughly the size and shape of a fishing tackle box. Lennox had eyed the thing a few times during the flight from Qatar to Iraq. Whatever it was Simmons's wanted couldn't be all that big.

After putting on their sunglasses, Lennox and his men followed Simmons out of the Osprey. The rotors kicked up clouds of sand. Tiny particles pelted the back of Lennox's head. The oven-like heat of the desert surrounded him.

The mini-sandstorm generated by the Osprey died down. Ahead of them were about two dozen Marines guarding the mouth of a cave. Above it and to the left, a large tarp fluttered on the ground. Probably covering that sinkhole, Lennox figured.

One of the Marines walked up to Simmons. "You the guy from the CIA?"

"I am. Agent Simmons."

"Captain Melendez." He shook Simmons's hand. "We did what you said and covered the sinkhole."

Simmons stared past him. "With a tarp?"

Melendez shrugged. "It was all we had."

Hands on his hips, Simmons shook his head. "Can we still reach the object?"

"Yes, sir. The collapse blocked one tunnel, but there's another one that leads to the chamber where we found it."

"Then let's go." Simmons set off for the cave.

Lennox watched him, his curiosity building. What made this spook move with a new sense of urgency?

The Spec Ops team followed Simmons, joined by Captain Melendez. Just as the CIA agent reached the mouth of the cave, he whirled around. "Captain Lennox. Leave two of your men behind to watch our ride."

Lennox's forehead wrinkled. They already had a platoon of Marines here. What, Simmons didn't think the Osprey had enough protection?

Unfortunately, the agent was in charge.

"Hiatt, Yancy," he said to the team's medic and radioman. "You get to baby-sit the Osprey."

"Yes, sir," they both replied.

Simmons had already entered the cave. Lennox and the others picked up their pace to catch up, removing their sunglasses and letting them dangle around their necks. Simmons pulled out a Maglite and switched it on. The Spec Ops soldiers used the flashlights on their rifles. Bright white beams played along the walls and floor of the cave.

"Melendez." Simmons waved the Marine officer over. "You lead the way."

"Yes, sir."

Melendez stepped past Simmons and took point.

"Stay sharp, guys," Lennox warned his men.

He shined his light into every alcove they came across. Every few seconds, he scanned the cave floor for boobytraps. Something put a bug up Simmons's ass. He had no idea what it could be, but he was going to be ready.

They wound their way through the tunnels without incident. Melendez brought them to a halt a few feet from an antechamber.

"That's where we found it." He jabbed his light toward the arch-shaped entrance.

Simmons nodded. "All of you wait here, and turn away while I'm in there."

"Are you shittin' me?" asked Epps.

"No, I am not shitting you," Simmons snapped. "No one looks in there, unless you want your new home to be Leavenworth."

Lennox glared at him. He did not like being threatened, especially by some suit-wearing, self-important, tight-lipped Agency prick. He spent a second fantasizing about ramming the butt of his M4 in Simmons's friggin' face before saying, "Do what he says."

The men all turned their backs to the antechamber.

"You could have said please, you know," said Epps.

Simmons didn't respond. Lennox heard the agent's boots clomp on the rocks as he entered the antechamber. The footfalls stopped. Next came some shuffling. The urge built within Lennox to turn around. His discipline as an officer, a leader, made him beat it down.

That and the threat of spending the rest of his life in a military prison.

He leaned closer to Captain Melendez and whispered, "Any idea what's so special about this thing?"

"I don't know. It's just some piece of metal."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. We thought it was scrap until we took some Geiger counter readings."

Lennox tensed. He'd uncovered more than a few terrorist weapon caches in Iraq and Afghanistan. They always scanned for traces of biological, chemical or radiological weapons. He'd never been with a team that discovered anything like that. Had Melendez's men come across evidence of WMDs?

"What did you find?"

"The thing did have slightly elevated radiation readings," Melendez answered.

"How much is slightly?" Lennox felt his insides clench. Visions of chemotherapy filled his mind.

"Don't worry, we're fine. It's a little more than your average microwave oven gives off."

"And the CIA is freaking out over that?"

"Hey, you got me," said Melendez. "I reported what we found to HQ. Next thing I know, my CO is telling me to secure the site and not touch a damn thing until the CIA gets here."

The corners of Lennox's mouth curled. Did the Agency think they had evidence the insurgents were building a dirty bomb? That would explain Simmons's fanatical devotion to secrecy. US forces throughout the Middle East were already on edge because of IEDs. If they thought these terrorist scumbags had their hands on a dirty bomb . . .

_Welcome to a full-blown panic._

"I got it. Let's go."

Lennox turned just as Simmons snaked his way through the Spec Ops team. He noted the expression on the CIA agent's face. Determination, urgency and . . . fear?

Simmons practically power-walked through the tunnels. "Come on! Let's go!" He shouted to Lennox's men when they reached the cave mouth, then broke into a run for the Osprey.

"Man, he wants out of here in a hurry," said Epps.

"Good," replied Lennox. "The quicker he's gone, the happier I'll be."

They dashed up the Osprey's ramp, with Simmons shouting, "Take off! Go! Go! Go!"

Seconds after the ramp closed, the Osprey was airborne. Simmons took out his sat phone.

"This is Spartan. Diamond Icon. I say again, Diamond Icon."

That was the extent of the phone call.

Lennox eyed Simmons as he dialed another number. The Green Beret drummed his fingers on the butt of his M4, its barrel resting against the Osprey's deck.

"What the hell is Diamond Icon?" Epps whispered to him.

"Some kind of code, one that sounds pretty serious."

Simmons again pressed the sat phone to his ear. Seconds passed before he spoke. "Golf November One, this is Spartan."

Lennox straightened up. Golf November One was the codename for JSOC Base Qatar.

"I need you to put the base on full alert . . . I don't know, maybe . . . just do it. And put some fighters in the air . . . Yes, it could be serious . . . I'll also need a fighter escort . . . you did read my orders, right? _Any _support I request. Well, I request a fighter escort . . . Good. Now, what about my plane? Did it arrive . . . Good. I want it refueled and ready for take-off the moment I land."

Lennox aimed a hard gaze at Simmons. Full alert? Fighter escort? Just what in the hell had Simmons dragged them into?

"All right. Enough of this bullshit." He got up and stepped over to the CIA agent. "I want to know what the hell is going on."

"Sorry, Captain, but you're not authorized."

Lennox responded with a humorless laugh. "'I'm not authorized.' Ask me if I care, Simmons. You bring us to Iraq to find God only knows what, then when you do find it, you act like someone's gonna steal it from you any moment. Now you put my base on alert and you're asking for fighter escorts."

"It's just a precaution."

"A precaution against what?"

"That's classified."

"It's our asses on the line if we run into anything." Lennox pointed to the metal box. "What's in there?"

"Sit down, Captain. I'm not going to say it again."

"And I'm not going to ask again. What's in that box?" Lennox stepped toward Simmons. The CIA man reached inside his jacket.

Lennox brought up his M4. So did the other Spec Ops soldiers.

"Hey, hey, hey!" the crew chief shouted. "Are you guys nuts? Put those weapons down."

They ignored him. Fig, sitting next to Simmons, shoved his rifle barrel into the man's cheek. "Unless your name's Jack Bauer, you may wanna rethink pulling out that gun."

Simmons slowly exhaled, then withdrew his hand from his jacket. He raised his arms and looked around at the Spec Ops team. "You people, are so far beyond serious trouble. Forget Leavenworth. We're talking secret prisons. No one phone call, no lawyers, no conjugal visits, no exercise yards. That's where you're all -"

"Shut up." Lennox grabbed Simmons by the collar. "These guns stay pointed at your head until we get some answers. Now, what's in that box that's so valuable?"

"What part of 'classified' and 'need to know' don't you get? I can't tell you."

"That's not the answer we're looking for, asshole." Fig jammed the rifle barrel deeper into Simmons's cheek.

Lennox gripped the CIA agent's collar tighter. "Okay, how about this? Who would attack us to get their hands on whatever you have?"

Simmons bit his lip. "There are some . . . other parties who we believe want this," he tapped the box with his foot, "really, really bad."

"What parties?" asked Lennox. "Al-Qaeda? Iran? China?"

"None of the above."

"Then who?"

"It's a threat that you've never heard of."

Lennox glared at him.

"Look, Captain, I'm sure you've been on missions where you've been entrusted with classified information. I'm no different."

Lennox drew a breath before speaking. "Do you have any reliable intel suggesting we are about to face an imminent attack?"

"No." Simmons shook his head. "As I said, what I am doing is a precaution. Chances are, there won't be any kind of attack. I'll just get on my plane with my package, fly off, then you go on with your lives, I go on with mine, and everybody's happy."

Lennox mulled over what Simmons told him. He then looked at his men. "Put 'em down."

Everyone lowered their weapons.

Lennox sat back down. "All right, maybe this is gonna turn out to be a big nothing, but we act like we're about to walk straight into a firefight. As soon as we land, we surround Mister Simmons in a diamond formation. Epps and I will take point, Top and Fig, left flank, Donnelly and Swisher right flank, Hiatt and Yancy, you've got the rear. We get him to his plane and get him on his way. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." the others replied.

The group stayed silent as the Osprey continued south. A few times Lennox looked at the aircraft's hull, imaging the sky outside it. Was there an enemy missile headed for them? An enemy aircraft? A leaden weight formed in his stomach. He wanted out of this flying tin can where he couldn't fight back if anything happened. His throat clenched as he thought of a fireball sweeping through the compartment, turning him and his men into ashes. He thought of his wife in mourning. He thought of Annabelle growing up never knowing her father.

Lennox willed the Osprey to go faster.

They reached JSOC Base Qatar without incident.

"All right. Let's do this."

Lennox hurried down the ramp, Epps beside him. Both men had their rifles up.

"Where's your plane?" Lennox looked back at Simmons.

"There." He pointed to a sleek, swept-wing Gulfstream III jet further down the runway.

They ran toward it, Lennox scanning for any threats. He spotted armed Humvees patrolling near the runway. Jets roared overhead. US Air Force Security Forces troopers had taken up positions around hangars and vital buildings. A few were on rooftops with Stinger missile launchers and M249 machine guns.

Sweat stung Lennox's eyes. His legs burned. He ignored it and kept going. There was nothing suspicious within eyesight. He prayed it stayed that way.

"Simmons!"

Lennox turned right. General Sharpe ran toward them.

"Simmons, what the hell is going on? Why did you put my base on alert?"

"No time to explain, General. I've got a plane to catch."

"I want to know if my base is in danger -"

"Look!" Donnelly pointed to the sky.

Lennox looked up. Contrails streaked away from a pair of F-16s. The missiles raced toward a single-engine jet with delta wings and a pointy nose. He recognized it as a Mirage 2000. The Qataris and the United Arab Emirates flew them. But they were allies.

_Unless it's a rogue pilot._

"Let's move, people!" Lennox hollered.

They ran faster. The Gulfstream sat 200 yards away, its two Rolls-Royce engines whining.

Something flashed in the sky. Lennox looked up.

_Oh shit._

Pieces of metal tumbled from the sky, trailing flame. One of the F-16s. The other F-16 banked hard right. A missile shot past it.

A second missile slammed into its tail. Fire and smoke consumed its rear half. The canopy flew off. The ejection seat blasted out of the burning jet. A parachute blossomed seconds later.

The Mirage dove toward the base. Two more F-16s dropped behind it. The French-built fighter launched four missiles. Lennox watched the contrails arc over the Mirage and head for the F-16s. The US jets peeled off, flares and chaff popping out of their bellies.

It didn't help. Both F-16s exploded.

The Mirage 2000 kept coming. Tracers flew toward it from the ground. Lennox swore he saw sparks jump off the jet's fuselage and wings. He expected to see a trail of smoke.

The jet showed no damage.

Yellow strobes appeared under the Mirage's wings.

"Down! Down!"

Lennox threw himself to the ground. So did the others.

Thunder crashed around him. The ground shook. Shrapnel whizzed above Lennox. He lifted his head. Tracers slashed through the Gulfstream. It blew up, flames and smoke reaching toward the sky. Fiery debris flew in all directions. Part of a wing bounced across the runway barely forty feet from Lennox's group.

The Mirage rocketed over the runway . . . then halted in mid-air.

Lennox's eyes widened. The world around him seemed to freeze. This couldn't be real. The Mirage 2000 wasn't a VTOL aircraft like a Harrier. It couldn't just hover in mid-air.

The jet seemed to come apart, then contract, then expand. A shiver went through Lennox. His mouth hung open in astonishment.

The jet had vanished. In its place stood a . . . thing, a thing over forty feet tall, blue and gray in color with a conical head and rectangular arms and legs.

Lennox was staring at an honest-to-goodness giant robot.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	3. Chapter 3

"Take 'im out!" Lennox brought up his M4 and fired. More rifles chattered around him. Sparks jumped off the robot's body. It just stared at them, ignoring the dozens of rounds clanging off its metallic skin.

Lennox swore he saw the thing narrow its eyes. It looked like it was glaring at him. What the hell kind of robot glared?

It stomped toward them, its footfalls sending mini tremors through the tarmac.

"Go! Go! Go!" Lennox hollered.

The Spec Ops team ran, closing in around Simmons. The agent looked over his shoulder, eyes bulging in shock.

Two Humvees charged past them. One launched a TOW anti-tank missile, the other fired its .50 caliber. The missile exploded against the robot's right shoulder, blotting it out in a cloud of orange and black. It staggered slightly.

"Grenades!" Lennox spun around raised his rifle. A dull _thump _came from the tubular M203 under the barrel. Fig, Donnelly and Hiatt also triggered their grenade launchers. "Top" Lieberthal stepped forward with his MGL. Grenades flew from its rotary barrel. Epps shouldered his AT4. The missile shot out of the tube with a sharp _crack!_ Mini fireballs burst across the robot's body. The damn thing clenched its fists. Its scowl grew more pronounced.

"I think all we're doing is pissing it off." Lennox shoved another grenade into his M203.

The robot raised its arms. Two slender barrels popped out of each wrist.

"Geddown!"

The Spec Ops team threw themselves on the concrete. Blue tracers spat from the robot's guns. The Humvees blew apart in torrents of flame. A machine gunner on the roof of a nearby hangar raked the robot with bullets. It brought around its left arm and fired. The front half of the hangar exploded and collapsed.

The robot turned back to Lennox's men.

Two more Humvees rolled across the runway, a boxy Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle behind them. More high caliber rounds and missiles exploded and pinged off the metal giant.

"Is that what that thing's after?" General Sharpe pointed to Simmons's box.

"Most likely."

"Damn you!" Sharpe's face twisted in rage. He snorted and turned to Lennox. "Get this SOB out of here. Keep that box away from that . . . whatever. We'll cover you."

"Yes, sir."

Sharpe pushed himself to his feet, pulling out his Beretta pistol. He stood and fired. The Humvees and Bradley kept up their barrage, joined by USAF Security Forces troopers with rifles and machine guns. The noise made Lennox feel like he was in the middle of an enormous fireworks show.

"Let's go! Go!" He screamed over the gunfire and explosions.

Lieberthal shot off the remainder of his grenades as the others rose and sprinted away. Lennox took a quick glance back.

_What the hell?_

Two boxes grew out of the robot's shoulders. Missiles sprang from them. Contrails corkscrewed and streaked off in all directions. Geysers of fire tore through buildings. Fireballs ripped apart the Humvees and Bradley. The Osprey Lennox and the others had flown in also exploded. The stench of smoke, burning metal, fuel and flesh clung to the air. The flames mixed with the intense heat to turn the air blast furnace hot. Sweat poured out of Lennox in rivers. He just kept running.

"Aw, shit!" Epps blurted. "It's comin' after us!"

Lennox checked over his shoulder. The robot stomped toward them. It kicked one of the flaming Humvees. The wreckage soared over the runway like a comet. It crashed into another Osprey. The aircraft exploded.

Sharpe backed up, continuing to fire his pistol. Two USAF Security Forces men joined him, blazing away with their M4s.

The robot kept coming.

_Move. Move! _He urged Sharpe and the two troopers.

The robot brought its guns to bear. It fired a quick burst. Sharpe and the airmen vaporized.

Lennox's throat clenched. His mind tried to process what just happened. His CO hadn't had big holes blown in him. Sharpe just . . . ceased to exist. Turned to ash.

What the hell sort of gun did that?

"We gotta move! We gotta move!"

Lennox ran faster, leading his men toward the motor pool. The robot gained on them, its huge stride quickly closing the distance.

Lennox's gut trembled. They weren't going to –

He heard a loud, steady beat from above. Two slender Apache attack helicopters raced over the base. Hellfire missiles blasted off their wing stubs. Lennox watched the contrails streak by and strike the robot. They exploded in a mass of roiling black and orange. The robot stumbled.

_What the hell does it take to put that thing down for good?_

They ran past a couple of buildings. Behind them, Lennox heard the whoosh of missile and rocket fire and the chatter of chain guns. The Apaches were still holding off the robot. His team still had a chance.

They dashed into an open area with rows of Humvees, Growler light strike vehicles and Stryker APCs. Lennox led them toward one of the eight-wheeled armored Strykers, this one with a Mk 19 grenade launcher.

"Fig, you're driving! Donnelly, you've got weps!"

"Yes, sir," they both replied.

Lennox lowered the vehicle's rear hatch. Explosions and gunfire continued in the distance. He prayed his side was getting the upper hand on the robot.

_A giant friggin' robot. _It still seemed unbelievable.

They scrambled inside the Stryker. Fig snaked his way to the driver's compartment, while Donnelly sat at the remote weapons system. Everyone else collapsed onto the deck, sucking in deep breaths. Lennox took a long pull on his CamelBak's nozzle as Fig started the engine. The Stryker lurched forward and picked up speed.

"Holy shit." Yancy pressed a hand over his heart and inhaled. "Holy shit, did you see that thing? Holy shit."

"A giant robot." Lieberthal shook his head, drops of sweat falling from his cheeks and chin. "Who in the hell built a giant robot?"

"It's gotta be aliens, man," said Donnelly. "I friggin' knew it. All this need to know black ops secrecy crap, it had to be aliens."

Normally, Lennox would roll his eyes and make a backhanded comment about Donnelly's ET conspiracy talk. But seeing that robot, no country on Earth had the technology to build something like that.

He stared at Simmons, still gasping for breath and clutching the box under his left arm. Lennox's face hardened. He slid across the deck and grabbed the CIA agent's collar.

"What the hell was that thing?"

"I'm not . . . authorized -"

Lennox whipped out his pistol and shoved the barrel against Simmons's forehead. "No more classified bullshit. No more need to know. A giant robot just blew up half our base. A giant _friggin' _robot. As far as I'm concerned, we need to know."

Simmons swallowed, defiance still in his eyes. "And what are you going to do if I don't talk? Blow my brains out? Then you won't know jack."

Lennox moved his pistol to Simmons's left knee. "Then I won't kill you. I'll just blow off your kneecaps, and keep blowing off body parts until you finally tell me what I wanna know!"

Simmons licked his lips. His shoulders sagged. "All right. I guess after what happened I have no choice."

"You got that right. Now, what the hell are we dealing with?"

Simmons hesitated. "We call them NBEs."

"What the hell's that?" asked Epps.

"Non-Biological Extraterrestrial."

"I told you," said Donnelly. "Aliens."

"Where do they come from?" asked Lennox.

Simmons shook his head. "We don't know."

"Are there any more of them on Earth?"

"We don't know."

"How did find out about these things?"

Simmons paused. "We have one."

It took a couple of seconds for Lennox to digest that. "You actually captured one of them?"

"No. All we have are body parts. The NBE was dead when we found it. It also had something similar to this." Simmons patted the box.

"What's in there?"

"An artifact."

"What kind of artifact?"

"We don't know."

Lennox felt his blood boil.

"Calm down, Rambo," said Lennox. "I'm telling you the truth. We have the other one back at our base. We don't know what it does, and believe me, we've had some of the brightest minds in the world study this thing. I'm talking Einstein, Neils Bohr, Wernher von Braun, Carl Sagan."

"Einstein? Von Braun?" Epps tilted his head, looking stupefied. "How long have you had that thing?"

"Remember the _Maine?"_

"What, you found that thing in Maine?" asked Hiatt.

"No, I don't mean the state of Maine. I'm talking about the _USS Maine."_

Lennox's brow furrowed. "That's the battleship that blew up in Havana, the one that started the Spanish-American War."

"And the Captain goes to the head of the class," Simmons said with a half-grin.

"So what does a battleship from a hundred-plus years ago have to do with these NBEs?" asked Lennox.

"Because it wasn't a mine or a coal bunker fire that sank the _Maine. _The NBE's ship happened to crash into it."

"Did the _Maine _shoot it down?" asked Hiatt.

"No, there were no such things as anti-aircraft weapons back then. Einstein and Sagan theorized it might have encountered some cosmic anomaly. Whatever the case, after the war in 1899, US Navy divers recovered the remains of the ship, the NBE and the artifact, and stored them in a secure location."

"Where?" asked Lennox.

"Now that I am not authorized to tell you. And before you start yelling and breaking out your waterboarding kit, think about this. That NBE could have blasted us, but it didn't. It must want the artifact, and it wants it in one piece. If you get captured, the less you know, the better."

Much as Lennox hated to admit it, Simmons was right. Everyone, even a Green Beret, had their breaking point.

"So what made you think what the Marines found near Basra was another . . . artifact?"

"We were forwarded a description of it, along with the elevated Geiger counter readings. We always suspected there might be some other artifacts scattered around the world. Our scientists think these things are part of a larger object. We've had a few leads over the years, but none of them panned out, until now."

"Whatever that artifact is, it's gotta be damn important for these robots." Epps looked at Simmons. "How the hell can you have guys like Einstein look at it and not know what it does?"

"Let me put it to you this way. Imagine your cell phone flying off through time and landing in ancient Greece. How long do you think it would take them to get even a remote idea what a device like that does? That's what we're dealing with. Alien technology that makes our most advanced computers look like a Gutenberg printing press from the 15th Century."

That revelation sent a shiver down Lennox's spine. He then thought of all the missiles and grenades that hit the robot and how it wouldn't go down.

"Can these robots be destroyed?"

"I'm sure they can be, but you'll need a lot of firepower. _A lot _of firepower."

"And what was up with it looking like a Mirage?" asked Lennox.

Simmons looked to the deck for a moment. "All our examinations of the NBE's remains show that it's not really a robot. Its insides look more like a combination of veins and circuitry, a kind of organic metal. A substance that can apparently grow and reshape itself."

"So these things can look like planes, or maybe cars, ships, whatever." Epps's jaw stiffened for a moment. "They could be hiding all over the world and we wouldn't know it."

"Until they turn back into robots and start blasting everything," added Lieberthal.

Lennox moved away from Simmons, rubbing his forehead. He'd never felt so overwhelmed in his life. He'd been trained to deal with terrorists, insurgents, guerillas, other elite soldiers. But this? Giant robots that can transform into vehicles and absorb enough firepower to wipe out an armored battalion?

_There can't be just one of them on Earth. _If they operated under any sort of military doctrine, they'd have sent a LRRP – Long-Range Reconnaissance Patrol – to try and locate these artifacts. Maybe a lot of LRRP teams. To cover an entire planet, that might take hundreds of NBEs.

_And they did find an artifact._

That meant they'd inform their superiors. Then what? Would they secure the artifact and leave? Would they secure the artifact, level the planet and claim it in the name of the NBE Empire?

_My God, we could be facing an alien invasion._

He thought about Sarah and Annabelle back in North Carolina. Could he really protect them from a threat like this?

Could anyone?

_Well, you either fight or die, Will, so cowboy up and do your duty._

"All right, we need to contact CENTCOM." Lennox referred to US Central Command. "Let them know what's going on, and we need to take that thing to a secure location."

"There's a Qatari army base about fifteen klicks from here," Epps told him.

Lieberthal turned to the Air Force sergeant. "And if that robot, or whatever, finds us there, it'll do to that base what it did to ours."

"Right now it's our best bet." Lennox turned to the front of the Stryker. "Fig. Head for the Qatari base."

"You got it, sir."

"Yancy, get me a line to CENTCOM."

"Yes, sir. Um . . ."

"What?" asked Lennox.

"Well, do you think they'll believe us when we tell 'em a giant robot just trashed our base?"

Lennox exhaled slowly. The radioman had a damn good point.

"I'll make them believe us, even if I have to drag their asses out of their nice, air-conditioned bunker and back to our base . . . what's left of it."

**XXXXX**

Dirge unleashed a furious roar as he slammed the Humvee into the ground. The concrete around it cratered. He hollered again, sweeping out his arm. Laser pulses spat from his twin wrist cannons. Fireballs consumed buildings and vehicles. Waves of fire spread through his damaged circuitry, fueling his rage. He searched for more targets. A group of humans fled into the desert. Dirge activated his missile launchers and sent half-a-dozen projectiles through the air. They hit the sand, erupting in clouds of fire and sand.

The fleeing humans ran no more.

Dirge scanned around him. Flames swept through the base. The wreckage of vehicles, planes, buildings and fleshlings of various skin colors lay around him. He covered the gaping hole around his right shoulder. Sparks crackled beneath his hand. He couldn't believe the humans' primitive weapons had caused this much damage. How many more hits could he have sustained before he died? The thought gave him pause.

He rid himself of that fear, thinking instead of his mission. After all these years on this miserable mudspeck planet, he'd finally found it.

Then lost it! Had it not been for the cursed fleshlings, the shard would be in his hands right now.

_It will be soon enough. _It had better be. If Megatron learned he had a shard within his grasp only to lose it . . .

A heavy, dark feeling took hold of his circuitry. He had seen what happened to those who incurred Megatron's wrath. He did not want to experience that.

A compartment opened on Dirge's left leg. He pulled out a bluish-gray putty-like substance and pressed it over the hole beneath his shoulder. That would have to do until he got to a proper repair facility.

"Dirge to Soundwave."

"This is Soundwave. Report."

"I need the location of the humans who possess the shard." His fellow Decepticon had been monitoring his progress from orbit. Soundwave's scanners surely detected those humans.

"Tracking targets. Transmitting image and coordinates."

A window appeared to Dirge's right. The feed from Soundwave's scanners showed a squat armored vehicle driving through the desert. Judging by the coordinates, it was only a few miles from what remained of this human base.

"I see them." Dirge checked the putty as it undulated and spread over his wound. He estimated it would take another five minutes to harden. Of course, the adhesive could take five hours to harden and it wouldn't matter.

Between Soundwave's scanners and his speed, the fleshlings had no chance of escape.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you really think I'd be talking about giant robots destroying an American military base if it wasn't true?" Lennox shouted into the handset of Yancy's SINCGARS field radio.

"Do not bark at me, Captain," snapped the CENTCOM officer on the other end. "I'm a colonel, not some lowly speck of a private."

"I'm sorry, _sir," _Lennox spoke through clenched teeth. "But I am trying to tell you that I am not lying, and I am not crazy. A giant robot, possibly extraterrestrial in origin, destroyed JSOC Base Qa-"

"Now it's an alien robot? You have lost your mind."

"If you don't believe me, send a Predator over the base. See for yourself."

"Don't tell me what to do, Captain," the colonel yelled. "Insubordination, using official military frequencies to call in a false report. Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

"We're all in trouble if you don't get reinforcements to Qatar imm-"

"Enough! I want your exact location so I can send MPs to drag your crazy ass to the nearest stockade."

"Fine!" Lennox shouted back. "We're heading for the Qatari army base fifteen klicks from our base, or whatever's left of it. So send some MPs. And while you're at it, send a division of M1s and a squadron of B-1 bombers."

He slammed the handset back on the radio set.

"Well that went well," said Simmons.

Lennox glared at him. "I am really not in the mood for jokes, Simmons."

"Fine. No more jokes. I'll do you one better." He took out his sat phone. A few seconds passed before he said, "This is Spartan. Jade Prism. I say again, Jade Prism."

Simmons ended the call and stuck the phone back in his pocket.

"So how does that help?" Lennox flung out his arms.

"My superiors will get in touch with CENTCOM shortly. Pretty soon we're gonna be up to our asses in reinforcements."

Lennox fixed Simmons with a penetrating stare. "You don't work for the CIA, do you?"

"I used to."

"And who do you work for now?"

"I bet it's Majestic Twelve," said Donnelly.

"Majestic Twelve?" Simmons scoffed. "That's a bunch of BS made up by UFO nuts."

"Obviously your agency isn't BS," said Lennox. "So what is it?"

"Again, better you don't know, in case you're captured."

"What if you're captured?" asked Epps.

"Not gonna happen, buddy."

Epps drew his head back in disbelief. "What? You got special anti-robot powers we don't know about?"

Simmons grinned and tapped his cheek. "Cyanide capsule in a fake molar. Issued to all field agents. If we are captured by an NBE, we're to swallow it."

"No way," said Hiatt. "I thought they only did that stuff in James Bond movies."

"Son, if the worst happens, my agency might be the only thing that stands between the continued existence of our species and extinction. We can't afford to have the NBEs get any information out of us."

Lennox's jaw stiffened. It would have sounded like a lame, clichéd line from a bad sci-fi movie had it not been for the fact he just witnessed a giant alien robot blowing up his base.

He looked to Yancy. "Contact the Qatari base. Tell them we're coming in, and that they better go on full alert."

"Yes, sir. Um, what should I tell them if they ask why?"

Lennox let out a slow breath. He figured the Qataris would respond to news about a giant robot the same way the CENTCOM colonel did, meaning they'd think he was full of shit.

"Tell 'em we have intel about an immediate terrorist attack." Lennox shook his head and chuckled. "That's what I should've told that colonel. Maybe then -"

"Captain," blurted Donnelly, who stared into the optics of the remote weapons system. "Bandit approaching."

A burst of fear went through him. "The robot?"

"Yes, sir. It's back in Mirage form."

Lennox looked to the front of the Stryker. "Fig! Step on it!"

"I already am, sir. Sorry, but even Dale Earnhardt, Junior couldn't make this thing go faster."

"Then zigzag. Throw off its aim. Donnelly, blast that thing."

"Already got 'im sighted. Firing."

Muffled thumps sounded above them as the Mk 19 grenade launcher fired.

Donnelly shook his head. "No joy. All misses. That launcher was made for ground targets, not anti-air work."

"Keep trying. We can't let -"

A hurricane wind screamed around them. The Stryker shook. Lennox's heart pounded against his chest. The robot/Mirage must have flown directly over them.

The Stryker lurched to a stop. Everyone fell on the deck.

"Shit!" Fig yelled. "It's right in -"

A ripping, metallic crash pounded Lennox's ears. Tremors rocked the Stryker. Its rear rose several feet, then dropped back down with a jolt.

Lennox blinked, his skull vibrating. He blinked and stared straight ahead. His insides clenched at what he saw.

A giant metallic fist rose from the mangled front end of the Stryker. Blood and entrails dripped from its fingers. Fig's blood and entrails.

Lennox swallowed, trying to forget about the Green Beret's death. He had six other men he was responsible for, seven including Simmons. Plus there was that artifact or whatever the guy had. He couldn't allow the robot to –

The giant hand ripped away the top of the Stryker. Lennox stared up at the conical head of the robot. It pointed its hand at them. Two gun barrels extended from its wrist.

"Give me the shard, fleshlings, or die."

**XXXXX**

Bumblebee didn't care for flying. He didn't have a fear of it like fellow Autobots Huffer and Inferno. He just preferred the form of ground transports. There was something reassuring about having your feet, or wheels, on solid ground. Or in the case of hover vehicles, near the ground. Plus, worlds like Earth put great emphasis on the design and color schemes of many of their vehicles. Not so much with aircraft.

He glanced at Powerglide with some disappointment. Why would he choose an ugly plane like the A-10? It had a blunt nose and large cylindrical engines mounted on the sides of the fuselage in front of the twin tails. The plane was ugly, had no character, and the gray color scheme was utterly bland.

But Powerglide liked it, more than sleeker Earth combat aircraft like the F-22 or the Typhoon. According to him, it gave him a look of raw, two-fisted power.

_To each their own, _as the humans said.

Bumblebee, at least, chose something more visually pleasing. A CM-170 Magister. Popular among human jet racers, the aircraft was small, sleek and had a V-shaped twin tail. He could also keep his usual gold and black color without drawing suspicion.

If he had to be a jet, he was going to be a cool-looking jet.

"Hey, Bee," said Powerglide. "See that smoke in the east?"

Bumblebee magnified his optics. A shudder went through his circuits. Fire swept through what looked like a human military base. Thick clouds of black smoke billowed into the air. A heavy feeling formed in his very spark. How many humans were hurt? How many were dead?

His sensors swept over the area. It could be another group of humans who attacked the base. This region of Earth always seemed to be in a state of war. But with Powerglide detecting that signal, he had a bad feeling it could be . . .

"Decepticon!" His sensors locked on a large blue/gray being with a conical head. "It's Dirge."

"I knew there had to be Cons somewhere on this planet."

Bumblebee observed Dirge level his blasters at a damaged armored vehicle – a Stryker, according to his memory banks. He also counted eight humans inside.

"C'mon. We have to move."

Bumblebee increased his speed. He hoped he wouldn't be too late.

**XXXXX**

Lennox gripped his M4 tighter. His eyes flickered around the shattered compartment. None of his men lowered their weapons. They also didn't fire. If Hellfire missiles couldn't take this thing out, their grenades sure as hell wouldn't.

He looked over at Simmons, who clutched the box tight against his chest.

_We can't let that thing get its hands on it. _Whatever that artifact did, Lennox doubted it would be good for the human race.

"I will not ask again," the robot said in English. The damn thing actually knew English. "Give me the shard."

Simmons's face tightened, as though trying to eliminate any trace of fear. "You're not getting this without a fight, asshole."

Lennox had to hand it to the guy. Simmons may be an asshole, but he was a brave asshole.

The robot barked out a laugh – _this thing can laugh, too? _"What you call a fight, fleshling, I call a slaughter."

The inside of the gun barrels glowed blue.

Lennox brought up his weapon. Sarah and Annabelle's faces popped into his mind.

_I love you._

His finger tightened around the M203's trigger. He'd at least get one shot in before –

A bright streak exploded off the robot's shoulder. It toppled to the side, crying out in pain.

"What the hell?" Epps blurted.

Lennox heard a dull roar above him. He looked up and saw an A-10 Warthog dive toward them. Finally reinforcements.

The jet shuddered and expanded into a compact, gray and dark green robot with rectangular arms and a bullet-shaped head. It landed just a few feet from the Stryker, sending a tremor through the sand. The new robot raised its right arm. A gatling gun emerged from it. The weapon whirred, spewing a thick line of tracers toward the fallen Mirage robot.

Another jet appeared, this one more civilian-looking with the gold and black paint scheme. It, too, transformed into a robot, this one squat with a round head. It stared into the Stryker. Lennox and the others brought around their weapons.

"Run, humans. We will cover you."

Lennox's mouth hung open in shock. Was this robot actually helping them?

More gunfire erupted nearby by. Tracers – or were they really lasers? - sliced through the air.

_Let 'em fight._

"C'mon, guys. Move it."

They scrambled over the side. Lennox checked over his shoulder. The "bad guy" robot was on one knee, smoke and sparks pouring out of gaping holes in its torso. Still it raised its left arm and fired. Two beams struck the A-10 robot. It spun around, sparks and flames leaping from its side. A box grew out of the Mirage robot's left shoulder. Missiles shot out of it.

"Hit the deck!"

The soldiers and Simmons threw themselves into the sand. Lennox heard the missiles screaming toward him.

Something slammed into the ground nearby. Lennox rolled on his side. The gold and black robot crouched in front of them, firing a laser cannon in its right arm. A fireball appeared in the air. Then another. The third missile struck the robot's mid-section. It started to fall backwards. Lennox tensed. Would he be crushed?

The robot slammed its left hand in the sand, halting its fall. It pushed itself to its feet, smoke billowing from its torso.

"Da'Hell?" Epps stammered. "Did that thing just save us?"

"Yeah. It did." Lennox nodded, staring at the gold robot as it headed back to the battle. The other two jet robots exchanged fire, running or rolling to avoid laser beams. The gold robot fired twice. Both shots missed. The Mirage robot turned and fired. The blast hit Gold in the shoulder.

"C'mon." Lennox got to his feet. "Let's return the favor."

The Spec Ops team ran toward the robots.

Simmons did not.

"Are you guys nuts?"

Lennox ignored him. He brought up his rifle and fired the grenade launcher. The round exploded against Mirage's leg. It barely flinched.

"The face," said Gold. "Aim for the face."

Lennox nodded. My God, this was insane. He was taking combat advice from an alien robot.

"Hit 'im in the face!" Lennox loaded another round. Mirage kept firing at A-10, who rolled and dodged the laser blasts. The beams struck the ground and threw up spouts of sand.

Grenade launchers thumped. Small fireballs exploded all over Mirage's head. It hollered and stomped around.

Gold took off running. It jumped over the wrecked Stryker and tackled Mirage. Both robots tumbled over the sand in a harsh crash of metal on metal. Mirage rammed both its hands into Gold's chest. The "good guy" robot flew into the air and crashed a few feet from its opponent. Mirage got to its feet. It bounded over to Gold and kicked him in the face.

A-10 fired. Its beam missed by a foot. Mirage extended its arm and fired. Two blasts nailed A-10 in the chest, knocking it down.

Lennox fired a grenade. So did Lieberthal and Yancy. Sparks and smoke exploded around Mirage's chin. It turned toward them.

Gold drew back its right arm. A wicked-looking broadsword grew out of its hand. He thrust it up and into Mirage's crotch.

Lennox couldn't help but grimace.

Mirage screamed as the sword drove deeper into its body. Gold then withdrew the sword. Mirage fell on its knees, smoke spewing from its mouth.

Gold got to its feet. A whirling, cylindrical cannon emerged from its left wrist. He held it in front of Mirage's face. A blue bolt tore through the "bad guy" robot's head. It burst apart, throwing a shower of bright orange sparks in all directions.

Gold stepped to the side as Mirage's headless body fell forward into the sand.

"Aw, man," said Epps. "Goldy killed the shit out of that thing."

Gold turned to its partner. "Powerglide. Are you all right?"

The robot sat up and saluted. "I'm fine, Bee. Not one hundred percent, of course, but I'll survive, unlike Dirge."

Gold – or Bee as the other robot called it – nodded and turned back to the Spec Ops team. It walked up to them.

"Greetings, humans. My name is Bumblebee of the Autobots."

Lennox took a breath. Nothing in his Army training had prepared him to deal with humanity's first contact with extraterrestrials.

_Guess I'll just have to wing it._

"Captain William Lennox, United States Army."

"A pleasure to meet you, Captain."

"At least this one's friendlier than the Mirage one," Epps noted.

"Thank you for saving our lives," Lennox said to Bumblebee.

"You are welcome. It is our duty to try and protect those caught in the crossfire of our war."

"What war's that?"

"Between we Autobots and the Decepticons."

"Decepticons?" asked Lennox.

"Our ancient enemies. Dirge there," Bumblebee pointed to the dead robot, "is part, or rather, was part of their army."

Lennox nodded. "You speak good English. I'm guessing you've been monitoring Earth for some time."

"We have actually been living among your people for decades."

That caused Lennox to raise an eyebrow. "Why have you been on Earth for so long?"

"Because we have been searching for something." Bumblebee leaned closer, eyeing Simmons. "And I believe you have found it."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	5. Chapter 5

Lennox followed Bumblebee's gaze to Simmons. The man clutched the box tight against his chest, like a six-year-old would do to protect his favorite toy.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Simmons.

Powerglide laughed. _The robot actually laughed, _thought Lennox, astounded. The laughter did sound like the honking of a mechanical goose. Still, it was a laugh.

"Look, buddy," said Powerglide. "I've been picking up minute traces of Allspark energy on your clothing and the surface of your little box since we got here."

Lennox's stomach contracted. _The jig's up. _His finger hovered over the trigger of his M203 grenade launcher. Though if these robots did try to take whatever Simmons had, no way would his team be able to stop them.

Neither Bumblebee nor Powerglide made a move against the agent.

Simmons licked his lips and drew himself up straight. "For argument's sake, let's say I do have whatever it is you're looking for. I do not have authorization to hand it over to anyone other than certain members of the United States Government. Again, if I actually did have what you're looking for."

Lennox rolled his eyes. _This guy lies worse than my younger brother did when he used to get in trouble._

"Please don't take offense to this," said Bumblebee, "but in the hands of a low technology civilization such as yours, that fragment you have could be dangerous, catastrophic, even. Think _Terminator."_

"Damn," muttered Epps. "These things even watch our movies."

Simmons cleared his throat. "Again, if I did possess this . . . fragment, I would need clearance from my superiors before I handed it over to anyone."

"Very well," said Bumblebee. "Then contact your superiors so we can negotiate."

Lennox relaxed. He took it as a good sign these Autobots wanted to talk instead of blow the crap out of them like that Dirge robot.

"Okay." Simmons dug into his pocket, not taking his eyes off the Autobots. He pulled out his satphone.

"This is Spartan. Bravo Kaleidoscope. I repeat, Bravo Kaleidoscope."

He put away the phone.

Powergilde tilted his head in a very human, befuddled way. "That's it?"

"They'll call back."

Lennox let out a slow breath. He'd been in special ops long enough to know nonsensical phrases like "Bravo Kaleidoscope" always had some significant meaning. He guessed it had to do with actual contact with aliens. So what was the protocol for Simmons's super secret officially-doesn't-exist agency? Would they try to make contact with the Autobots? Would they just blast anything non-terrestrial? Lennox prayed it wasn't the latter.

"This Allspark," he said to Bumblebee. "What is it?"

The gold Autobot turned to Powerglide. They stared at each other in silence for several seconds. Powerglide then shrugged. "Might as well tell him."

Bumblebee nodded and turned back to Lennox and the others. He stood erect, pencil-thin beams of light coming from his eyes. They formed into a hologram of a large, metallic cube.

"Cool," said Yancy.

"This is the Allspark," said Bumblebee. "Its true origin has been lost over the millennia, but it is what gives all Transformers life, sentience. At least it did until its destruction."

"What happened?" asked Lennox.

Bumblebee lowered his head. His eyes seemed to droop. Was he actually sad? Lennox just gaped in amazement. These things possessed so many human qualities and gestures. They appeared to have done more than just live among Earth's people. They actually adopted some of their mannerisms for themselves.

The hologram shimmered and changed into a large metallic sphere of highly polished silver. Spires and other large constructs dotted its surface. "Our home planet, Cybertron, as it was long ago, a shining beacon of peace and hope in the galaxy."

"I take it it's not that way now?" asked Simmons.

Bumblebee shook his head. "The war turned it into a charred, ruined landscape."

The image changed again. The buildings vanished. The silver surface became the color of coal. A large cinder hanging in space.

Lennox shivered, imaging Earth looking like that.

"For over forty thousand of your years," said Bumblebee, "Cybertron was the center of a vast federation where war and suffering were unheard of. A utopia, as you humans would say."

Bumblebee's shoulders sagged. "Then one day, we were invaded."

Another image formed. Lennox grimaced at the sight of a being that resembled a totem pole with numerous tentacles.

"Damn," said Epps. "That is one ugly SOB."

"They were called the Kre'Va," Bumblebee continued. "They ravaged one world after another. Our region of the galaxy had known peace for so long, we had no army, no warships to challenge them."

"I take it that changed," said Simmons. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here right now."

"You're correct. We used the Allspark to create Transformers that specialized in war. They were called the Decepticons, and the strongest, most ruthless of them all became their leader. His name is Megatron."

The image Bumblebee showed sent a chill through Lennox. This robot had large, rectangular arms, a broad chest, a narrow face with a bucket-shaped head and battleship gray "skin." But it was the eyes that stood out the most. They were blood red, and radiated malevolence.

"The Decepticons battled the Kre'Va," Bumbebee went on. "They showed no mercy. No prisoners were ever taken. Any Kre'Va encountered by the Decepticons were slaughtered, until they became extinct."

The gold Autobot paused. "Unfortunately, Megatron developed a love for war and conquest. When the Kre'Va were wiped out, he turned on us, the very ones who gave him life. We would have met the same fate as the Kre'Va had a great leader named Alpha Prime not shown us how to fight, and we have been fighting ever since."

"So the Allspark was lost somewhere along the way." Lennox put it as more of a statement than a question.

Bumblebee nodded. "Yes. The Decepticons would steal the Allspark, we would liberate it, again and again and again for millennia. Then one day, an Autobot named Guardian Prime took the Allspark from a Decepticon stronghold. He was about to escape through a space bridge when the Decepticons attacked. Right when he was about to enter the portal, the bridge exploded, blowing the cube into countless pieces. They were thrown through hyperspace and scattered throughout the galaxy. Both sides have been trying to find those fragments and rebuild the Allspark ever since."

"So have you found many fragments?" asked Lennox.

Bumblebee paused. Despite his robotic features, Lennox could tell the Autobot was debating with himself whether or not to answer the question.

"We have found some. But we need many, many more in order to reconstruct the Allspark to the point it can restore Cybertron and create more Transformers."

"Then what difference will one fragment make?" Again, Simmons clutched the box tightly.

"A fragment of the Allspark is enough to turn an inanimate machine into a Transformer," Bumblebee told him. "But it will be one with barely any intelligence. It cannot evolve and learn, distinguish right from wrong. Basically, it's a mindless weapon."

"That's why you can't keep that fragment," said Powerglide. "If you tap into its power and can't control it, every electronic device within a space the size of one of your biggest cities will turn into a killing machine."

Nausea burned Lennox's stomach. He thought of a city like New York. Eight million people lived there. How many owned cell phones, computers, TVs, microwaves, alarm clocks? What about vehicles? Would all those cars, trucks, buses and subway trains come to life, blazing away with lasers and missiles?

Lennox swallowed. _Bumblebee was dead on when he said, 'Think Terminator.'_

He looked at the box, thought of the fragment inside. All those years of poking and prodding and experimenting by some of history's greatest scientists had resulted in nothing.

But what if one day . . .

"Simmons. We need to talk."

The agent faced him. "About what?"

Lennox took hold of his arm, then looked up at Bumblebee. "Excuse us for a second."

**XXXXX**

Bumblebee watched Lennox lead the dark-haired human away from the others. They had gone about sixty feet when Lennox began speaking in a low voice. Bumblebee could easily pick it up with his audio receptors. A flicker of guilt rose within him. Humans considered eavesdropping rude, even deceitful. Still, with a fragment of the Allspark within his grasp, he had to know what they were saying.

"All right, Simmons. I think it's time to lay all our cards on the table."

Bumblebee knew enough human slang to know that was a good thing Lennox just said.

"Are you kidding?" replied Simmons. "What I have here is vital to national security, probably global security."

"You heard what Bumblebee said it can do. Do you want millions of cell phones and TVs turning into homicidal R2D2s? This thing is too dangerous for anyone to have."

"Oh for God's sake, you sound like some peacenik hippie. America has enemies out there."

"No shit," Lennox snapped. "I've been fighting those enemies for the past five years."

"Then imagine what we could do if we harnessed this fragment's power."

Bumblebee had no problem imagining that. He'd seen it with his own eyes on the planet Ooril. The people there managed to activate the power of the fragment, and no surprise, they couldn't control it. Forty percent of their population died before the deadly machines were finally stopped. And the Oorilians had been at least a thousand years more advanced than the humans.

_This whole planet could be devastated._

"How do you know your people can control that power?" Lennox asked.

"Hey, we split the atom, created an arsenal of nuclear weapons. They can blow up the world, but we control the launch codes and the keys that fire them or drop them, and guess what? The world's still here."

"Well this fragment doesn't sound like something that easy to control."

Bumblebee found himself rooting for Lennox to make Simmons see reason. Truth be told, he was starting to like Lennox. He seemed brave, but wise. Ready to fight, but more ready to use his intelligence.

"So what are you saying?" Simmons demanded. "We just give the fragment to these robots? What if they find more fragments and put their cosmic cube back together? They could create billions of robots and invade Earth."

"I don't think they'd do that."

Simmons barked out a laugh. "What, you trust these things? We've been talking to them for, what, all of five minutes, and you're ready to declare they're the good guys?"

Lennox paused. "I am."

A thrill pulsed through Bumblebee's circuits. Much as he enjoyed human culture, he'd also seen the dark side of it. War, crime, corruption, hatred, distrust. Lennox, he felt, was definitely one of the good humans, someone they could work with.

Perhaps someone they could befriend.

Simmons shook his head. "For someone who's seen and done the things you've done, I can't believe how naïve you are."

"This has nothing to do with naivety," Lennox responded.

"Oh really? Well think about this, Captain. Maybe these Autobots are playing us. Maybe they're just pretending to be our friends, then when the time is right, zap!" Simmons pointed his finger and thumb like a gun.

"You've been watching too many TV shows. You saw what that robot, Dirge, did to our Stryker, to our base. If Bumblebee and Powerglide wanted to, they could just turn us to ash and take your box. But they haven't. Instead, they're talking to us. And think about this. Those fragments are important to both the Autobots and the Decepticons."

"Well that's obvious."

Lennox stepped closer to Simmons. "Do you really think Dirge was the only Decepticon on Earth? He probably contacted his buddies before he attacked us. For all we know, they already told this Megatron there's an Allspark fragment here. You heard what Bumblebee said about him."

"If he was telling the truth."

Bumblebee didn't know whether to feel disappointed or angry with Simmons. His mistrust and adherence to rules blinded him to the greatest threat this world ever faced.

"I think he was," said Lennox. "You saw how many missiles and grenades Dirge took back at the base and stayed on his feet. If there are more like him on their way to Earth, we're gonna need allies just as powerful. We're going to need the Autobots."

"We don't have the authority to negotiate an alliance between the United States Government and an extraterrestrial race."

"Simmons, look around." Lennox threw out his arms. "We're in the middle of the Qatari desert, with two giant alien robots, who just saved our asses from another giant alien robot. Forget about rules and protocols, forget about waiting for your bosses at Area Fifty-One or wherever to call you back. We have to start laying the groundwork for this alliance ourselves, otherwise, Earth could wind up like Cybertron."

Simmons cast his eyes to the ground, his jaw set, thinking.

_Come on, Simmons, _thought Bumblebee. _See reason._

Many seconds passed before Simmons looked back up. A loud breath shot from his mouth. "I'm gonna be in so much trouble for this."

Lennox slapped him on the shoulder. The two made their way back to Bumblebee and Powerglide. Simmons knelt and placed the box on the sand.

"So is this what you're looking for?" He opened the lid.

Bumblebee nearly let out a whoop of delight when he saw the fragment.

**XXXXX**

From Earth orbit, Soundwave's sensors focused on the small Allspark fragment in the human's box. Finally, he had confirmation.

He beamed a coded message to the transmitter he'd placed on the Moon decades earlier. That message was sent through subspace, where Megatron would receive it.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Thanks for reading my version of the Transformers movie. If you are enjoying this, be sure to check out my original novels "Dark Wings," where Earth is invaded by aliens resembling Mothman and the Jersey Devil, and "Sea Raptor," where an ex-Army Ranger battles a sea monster terrorizing the Jersey Shore. Both books are available on Amazon under the name John J. Rust._


	6. Chapter 6

"Optimus. Incoming message from Bumblebee."

Optimus Prime immediately straightened in response to Sky Lynx's voice. His circuits vibrated with anticipation. How long had it been since he'd heard from the Autobot warrior? Did he finally have good news from Earth?

"Put it on the main viewing screen."

"As you command."

The Autobot leader turned to the large screen above the cockpit window. Beyond it was the undulating, glowing blue mass of hyperspace that Sky Lynx, in his shuttle form, flew through. The screen caught the reflection of Optimus's enormous red and blue squarish frame before Bumblebee's face appeared.

"Optimus. Can you hear me?"

"I hear you. It's been too long, old friend."

"Likewise."

"What do you have to report?" Anticipation surged through Optimus.

"We found a fragment."

"All right, Bumblebee." A stocky green and yellow Autobot behind Optimus raised a triumphant fist.

"I had faith you'd succeed," said a bulky gray Transformer.

"All right, settle down you two." Optimus turned to Springer and Ironhide, hands up in a calming gesture. He then looked back at Bumblebee. "How large is the fragment?"

"'Large' isn't the word I'd use to describe it. It's two-point-three-six inches in length."

"What?" asked an Autobot with a round torso and wing-like protrusions on its back.

"Sorry, Wheeljack. One-point-seven-one dets in length."

"Ahh. Much better. Thank you."

Optimus stared at Bumblebee's image in silence. Like most of the Allspark fragments, it was not very big. He shouldn't have expected anything different. Still, it was hard to temper his excitement when he learned of the discovery of a fragment. Each one brought them that much closer to fully restoring the Allspark. It also meant creating new Transformers that could learn, feel and develop personalities. True sentient beings. All they could do now with the fragments they possessed was transform machines into Autobots without much in the way of intelligence or individuality. Basically, weapons with a small vocabulary and just enough knowledge to know who to shoot at and who not to shoot.

A heavy feeling weighed on Optimus's internal mechanisms. Without much ability to adapt and learn, many of those primitive Autobots had succumbed in battle.

_Are we creating them only to be slaughtered? _The conflict was ever-present in Optimus. Primitive or not, those Transformers were living beings and deserved long, fulfilling lives. But with the war against the Decepticons, they needed as many troops as possible.

_Thus is the burden of leadership._

"Are you in possession of the fragment?" he asked Bumblebee.

"Not exactly. There's been a complication."

Annoyance sizzled within Optimus. _There always is whenever we find a fragment._ "What is it?"

"The natives have acquired the fragment," answered Bumblebee, "and they are unwilling to give it up."

"Natives with an Allspark fragment," said Springer. "That usually leads to unpleasant consequences."

"Too true." Optimus turned back to Bumblebee. "Did you inform the natives of the dangers of the fragment?"

"I did. The human who has it, however, is particularly stubborn. There are other humans who are more reasonable."

"Thank Primes past for that." Optimus and the other Autobots bowed their heads in a brief moment of reverence for the leaders who came before.

"There is another complication, I'm afraid," Bumblebee informed him. "The Decepticons also know of the fragment."

Ironhide scowled. "It figures the Decepticons are already involved. Not that I am complaining." He held up his rectangular arm. A cannon popped out of his wrist. "I look forward to reducing their numbers."

"In terms of numbers," Optimus said to Bumblebee, "how many Decepticons are on Earth?"

"Unknown. We've only encountered one, Dirge, and destroyed him."

"I doubt he was the only Decepticon on that planet."

"I agree," said Bumblebee.

"Send us your coordinates, and all information you've gathered on Earth," Optimus ordered. "We will arrive as soon as possible. Do everything in your power to safeguard the fragment. We cannot allow the Decepticons to have it."

"Understood, Optimus. Transmitting coordinates and all information on Earth. See you later, alligator."

Optimus's head whipped left to right in confusion. "What?"

"Sorry. It's an old Earth saying. Bumblebee out."

The Autobot's image vanished from the screen.

"He really has embraced the native culture, hasn't he?" said a bulky blue and gray robot with wing-like projections on his back.

Springer turned to Bluestreak. "Not as bad as Seaspray. He was on that water planet for so long he only wants to transform into boats now."

"Coordinates acquired," Sky Lynx's voice boomed through the interior. "Hyperspace vectors readjusted. A course is now plotted for planet Earth. Also, all information on Earth is ready for download."

"Very well," said Optimus. "Autobots, prepare to receive download."

Millions upon millions of words, images and sounds flashed through Optimus's processing units. Thousands of years worth of history and culture were now stored in his memory banks. Earth had changed a great deal since his last visit there 2,652 years ago. A rogue Decepticon named Dreadwing had developed a fault in his personality programming, making him believe he was a god to the native humans. He even made them build enormous stone structures called pyramids in his honor. Optimus had defeated him and freed the tribe called Egyptians.

Their empire no longer existed. It was now just one of over two hundred separate countries. Some small, like Belgium and Jamaica, others large, like the United States and Russia.

"Still a very primitive race," said Wheeljack. "They use forms of liquid to fuel their vehicles, and look at what they call spaceships. It's amazing they can even breach the atmosphere."

"Have you seen how many languages they speak on Earth?" Springer asked in an astounded tone. "No wonder there's so much conflict among all these countries. They probably have no idea what anyone is saying."

"Most of the humans' weapons are not impressive," noted Ironhide. "They've only just begun to construct directed energy weapons. None of them as powerful as ours. They do have fission-based weapons. Given all the wars they've had in their history, I find it surprising they haven't already annihilated each other."

"But have you seen the designs of some of their ground transports?" Bluestreak's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Very visually appealing. Especially this Maserati Gran Turismo. I think this will be my vehicle mode while on Earth."

Ironhide sneered and shook his head. He then walked up to Optimus. "You intend to negotiate with the native species for the Allspark fragment?"

"That is our standard procedure."

"Then I fear for our success. The humans are more likely to shoot us on sight than talk to us."

"Ironhide has a point," said Sky Lynx. "I have already scanned many stories about humans, mainly in the United States, storing captured space-faring ships and beings in secret. These stories have not been confirmed by human news outlets, but they should be cause for concern."

"True, the humans have shown a great propensity for violence," said Optimus. "But were we so different when our race was as young as theirs? And while they have engaged in countless wars, we also see evidence of their goodness. They have effected social and cultural changes without violence. They have helped those affected by natural disasters. They give to those who are not as well off as others. Bumblebee has said he has contacted humans who are more likely to talk with us than attack. Surely there are more like them on Earth."

"I hope you are right, Optimus," said Ironhide.

"I hope so, too."

"What if the humans refuse to give us the Allspark fragment?" asked Bluestreak.

"Then we will have to use other means to retrieve it, not only for our sakes, but for theirs."

"Yes, I remember what happened with the fragment on planet Ooril," said Wheeljack. "I'd rather not have a repeat of that disaster."

Ironhide looked at Optimus. "I have a feeling the humans will not relinquish the fragment without a fight. I know you go to great lengths to avoid hurting the native populace, but if they do attack us, what then?"

Optimus stood in silence for a short time before replying. "Let us hope it does not come to that."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Apologies for the delay between chapters. Things have picked up at my job – radio sports reporter – with the start of high school and college sports. Plus I put in a lot of time working on the sequel to my just released sci-fi thriller "Sea Raptor," available on Amazon and Kindle under John J. Rust. Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter in my version of the Transformers movie. More chapters to come, hopefully sooner rather than later. _


	7. Chapter 7

Lennox took a pull from the nozzle of his Camelbak. The cool water ran down his throat, giving him a little relief from the harsh heat of the Qatari desert. He was about to take another swallow when Simmons's satphone rang.

"Spartan," the agent answered. "Right . . . Understood . . . We are expecting more company . . . their friends . . . Roger. I'll be standing by."

Simmons shoved the phone in his pocket.

"That your friends from Area 51?" asked Donnelly.

Simmons snorted, not answering the sergeant. Instead he walked over to Lennox. "Those were my superiors. All CENTCOM forces have been ordered to stay away from this area until further notice. The last thing we want is someone launching a missile by mistake during a first contact situation."

"Good." Lennox got to his feet and brushed sand from his gray-green-tan pixeled ACU – Army Combat Uniform. "Now all we have to do is wait for this Optimus Prime to get here."

"He should be here shortly," said Bumblebee. "With our hyperspatial drives, we can traverse great distances in very little time."

"I figured you guys had FTL drives." Donnelly used the acronym for Faster-Than-Light. He then looked at Simmons. "How about it, Agent Simmons? You hiding FTL drives at Area 51?"

"If we were, I sure as hell wouldn't tell you."

Donnelly scowled. "Dick." He didn't bother keeping his voice down.

Lennox chuckled to himself as Bumblebee came over, his footfalls vibrating through the sand. "I believe you will like Optimus. He is not only a great leader, but a great warrior as well, much like William the Conqueror or King Leonidas of Sparta."

"You really have studied our history."

"I have spent sixty-two years on your planet. I have picked up some tidbits here and there."

Bumblebee's mouth twitched into something of a smile. Lennox couldn't get over the fact he was watching a robot smile.

"Sixty years is a long time to be here. You gotta miss the other Autobots."

"For us, sixty years is not very long. Transformers can live for more than four hundred thousand years."

"Four hundred thousand years?" Lennox stared at Bumblebee, mouth agape. He thought about his grandfather, who passed away at age 88. Lennox had thought that was a long life.

"You aren't the first species to react that way. It is our experience that organic lifeforms exist for only a fraction of our lifespan." Bumblebee paused. "You are right, though. I miss my friends. Though there are times . . ." He turned his head slightly away from Lennox.

"What?"

"There are times I do enjoy my time on Earth. The war with the Decepticons has been all any Autobot has known for forty thousand years. It is nice to have a respite from the fighting. Though when I think that, I feel guilty, knowing that my friends are spread across the galaxy, fighting and dying, while I amuse myself with your TV shows."

"Believe it or not, I know what you mean. This is my second time in Iraq, and I did a tour in Afghanistan. I'm always glad to be home with my wife, but I still feel guilty about friends of mine dodging enemy fire and sleeping on rocks while I'm having dinner with Sarah or sleeping in an actual bed."

Bumblebee nodded. "Can I ask you a question, Captain Lennox?"

"Sure."

"We Autobots have no choice when it comes to our war. We either fight the Decepticons, or we die. Your enemies, while dangerous, don't threaten you with imminent extinction. The people of your country even have a choice whether or not they want to serve in your army. So why did you choose to be a soldier when you could be safe at home with your wife?"

"It's because of my grandfather," Lennox answered. "He fought in World War Two with the OSS."

"OSS?" Bumblebee's paused lasted barely a split second. "Oh yes. The intelligence organization that preceded the CIA."

Lennox raised both eyebrows, impressed with Bumblebee's knowledge of U.S. history. Then again, he probably had some kind of advanced computer for a brain, making him a walking version of Wikipedia.

"After everything he saw during the war," Lennox continued, "he kept telling me that freedom wasn't something to be taken for granted, that there were people in the world who wanted to take it away, and that other people had to stop them. Grandpop was just one of many men and women to put on this uniform and stand up to evil. I figured I should do my part, too."

"That's very noble of you, Captain Lennox."

"Thanks." He stared up at Bumblebee. How unbelievable was this? He was conversing with a giant robot from another planet as casually as he would with one of his men. And they actually had things in common! Bumblebee had probably been around since human beings were carrying spears and painting on cave walls. What had this robot seen and experienced in all those years? How many different planets had he set foot on? How many other aliens had he encountered? What were they like?

_Well now's your chance to find out._

Lennox opened his mouth to ask his first question.

"Incoming aircraft," Powerglide announced.

"What the hell?" Lennox brought up his rifle, as did the other Spec Ops soldiers. He looked at Simmons. "I thought our forces had orders to stay away from here."

"They do. Whatever's coming our way isn't American."

"It could be Decepticons," said Bumblebee.

Lennox hurried over to a small dune, pulling out his binoculars. Epps joined him a few seconds later, also with binoculars in hand.

"Two helicopters," said Powerglide. "Ten miles and closing."

Lennox stared through his binoculars. He spotted two dark shapes coming in low over the desert. "I can't ID 'em."

"Maybe this will help." Tiny laser beams shot out of Powerglide's eyes. They formed holographic images of the two choppers. Both had oblong fuselages and enclosed tail rotors.

Lennox recognized them immediately. "They're Gazelles. The Qatari military flies them."

"The Qataris also fly Mirage 2000s," said Epps, "and one of them turned into that Decepticon."

Lennox's finger hovered near the trigger guard of his grenade launcher. He turned back to the wreckage of the Stryker. His throat clenched for a moment, thinking of Fig.

That remorse was buried quickly. If these were more Decepticons, they needed to be ready.

"Use the Stryker for cover," he told his team. "Be sure to aim for their faces, like we did with Dirge."

"Hang on, Captain." Powerglide held up a hand. "I'm picking up human radio transitions in Arabic. They're Qatari military, not Decepticons."

Lennox let out a sigh of relief, then stopped midway. Concern swept through him.

"Simmons!" He jogged over to the agent. "Didn't your bosses tell everyone to stay away from here?"

The other man's face stiffened with tension. "They must have only told our forces. They probably didn't think to pass it along to the Qataris."

Lennox turned back to the approaching Gazelles. The Qataris must have seen the smoke from the battle with Dirge and decided to send scouts to investigate. He then glanced at Bumblebee and Powerglide. His guts turned to ice. He had an idea how the Qataris would react when they saw two giant robots in the middle of their desert.

Something orange flashed on the side of the Gazelle on the right. A contrail shot over the sand.

"Incoming!"

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	8. Chapter 8

Lennox and the other Spec Ops soldiers threw themselves onto the sand. Mini quakes rippled underneath him. He looked up to see Bumblebee rush past. The Autobot jumped in front of Lennox and Epps.

"Stay behind me."

Lennox stared at him wide-eyed. Bumblebee was actually going to use his body to shield them? They'd known each other less than two hours and he was putting his life on the line to protect them.

Lennox looked past Bumblebee. The missile readjusted its course in mid-flight. He noticed a silvery glint behind it. Guidance wires. It was probably a HOT anti-tank missile. Lennox's gaze shifted from the projectile to Bumblebee. His teeth clenched. He'd seen Dirge withstand several missiles during the attack on JSOC Base Qatar. Could Bumblebee do the same?

Flames and smoke sprang from the Autobot's body. A metallic crash followed an instant later.

"Bumblebee!" Lennox shouted.

The Autobot stumbled. A cloud of smoke hovered around his body. He straightened up, turned to Lennox and gave him a thumbs up.

"Let's move!" Lennox sprang to his feet, as did Epps. They hustled to another small dune nearby, Bumblebee right behind them. Another _thump _carried across the desert air. Lennox looked over his shoulder. The Qatari helicopter launched a second missile.

He and Epps jumped over the dune, rolling down the sand. Yancy and Lieberthal were already crouched near the bottom. Lennox clawed at the sand, stopping his slide. He saw movement out the corner of his eye. Powerglide jumped to the right. Seconds later the HOT missile streaked by him. It exploded in the sand.

"Yancy!" Lennox yelled to the radioman. "You got the frequency for the Qatari base?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then call 'em up and tell 'em to stop shooting at us."

"You can talk to the helicopters directly," said Bumblebee. "I've identified their radio frequency and can tap into it. Here."

A wire snaked out of the Autobot's arm. A handset was attached to the end. Lennox shook his head in amazement. _These things can just create a phone like that?_

The deafening noise of rotorblades and the flash of machine gun tracers shattered Lennox's moment of incredulity. He snatched the phone.

"Qatari helicopters! Qatari helicopters! This is Echo Lima One Five. Cease fire! Cease fire! You're shooting at friendly forces."

"Who is this?" one of the pilots replied in a thick accent.

"This is Echo Lima One Five. We are an American Special Ops team. We are in your field of fire. Cease fire. Cease fire."

"We have not heard of your code name," replied the pilot. "You are not authorized to be on this channel. Cease your broadcast."

"Like hell! You cease fire, now!"

No response, save for more tracers ripping into the ground. Spouts of sand went up near Powerglide.

"Dammit!" Lennox flung the phone away from him. He bit down on his lower lip, thinking.

"Epps." He turned to the Air Force sergeant. "C'mon."

"What? Where?"

"Where the Qataris can see us."

Epps's mouth fell open. "Say what? You wanna be a target for those assholes?"

"No," Lennox snapped. "I want to get them to stop shooting. Hands up. Bumblebee, you too. Hands up."

"You think this will work?" asked the Autobot.

"It's either that or we shoot them down. I'd like to avoid that."

"As would I."

Lennox had a feeling Bumblebee felt the same. Given what they had done to Dirge, the two robots could have blown those choppers out of the sky with ease. Maybe the Autobots had some sort of prime directive to avoid harming humans, unlike the Decepticons.

He laid down his rifle and drew a breath, feeling fear wrap around him. What if the Qataris didn't care that they had their hands up? What if they just wanted to keep blasting Bumblebee and Powerglide? Lennox had no doubt a missile or machine gun round would find one of his men, or him. He swallowed, thinking of Sarah and Annabelle, raised his arms and started up the dune. His heart pounded as he neared the top. The sweat that drenched his body turned cold.

_Please don't shoot me._

He reached the top, stretching his arms as high above his head as possible. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Epps and Bumblebee do the same.

"Everyone get your hands up!" He shouted, wondering if the others could hear him over the Gazelles's rotors. "Hands up!"

Simmons, Donnelly, Hiatt and Swisher noticed him. All four gave him perplexed looks.

Another burst of machine gun fire came from one of the Qatari helicopters. A few rounds pinged off Powerglide.

The others lowered their weapons and raised their hands. Lennox eyed one of the Gazelles flying right at them.

_Please . . . Please._

All his muscles tightened as the helicopter drew closer, then flew past without firing a shot.

Lennox let out a long, relieved breath.

The two choppers circled around and landed a hundred feet away. Their rotors kicked up clouds of sand. Lennox peered through it as Simmons and the others joined him. He saw three figures leap out the rear of one Gazelle. Three more got out of the other. They emerged from the artificial sandstorm, bent at the waist, wearing tan and beige splotched uniforms and carrying M-16s.

The Qatari soldiers jogged toward them. Lennox didn't take his eyes off them. His anger boiled as he thought of the choppers firing missiles and machine guns without even knowing what the hell was going on. His face stiffened. He balled his fists.

"You look like you want to knock out one of those Qataris," said Epps.

"I'm very tempted."

"I'd advise against it, sir. Fists versus M-16s, I know what I'm putting my money on."

Lennox grunted as the Qataris neared them. All six stared at Bumblebee, eyes and mouths wide with awe. They also pointed their rifles at them. One soldier, who looked no older than eighteen, visibly shook.

Another young soldier, a second lieutenant judging by his single star insignia, pulled his eyes away from Bumblebee. Lennox met the man's gaze. He took a couple of settling breaths.

_Be diplomatic. Be professional._

"Are you the idiot who ordered those choppers to fire on us?"

The young lieutenant drew his head back, looking shocked Lennox had spoken to him like that. He stiffened his face, trying to regain his composure. "Who are you?"

"Captain William Lennox, US Army Special Forces. Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Ali Saeed, Qatari army." He looked up at Bumblebee, the amazement still evident in his eyes. He pointed to the Autobot. "What . . . What are you doing with those things?"

"We were having a conversation when you just started shooting."

"How was I to know they belonged to you Americans?" Ali Saeed said in clipped English with just a hint of an accent. It made Lennox wonder if the young man received his officer training someplace outside Qatar. He knew quite a few officers from Middle East countries were schooled at Sandhurst, England's version of West Point.

"What are they doing in our desert?" the lieutenant continued. "Did you have permission to take these things on maneuvers?"

Lennox bit his lip. Should he tell Ali Saeed the truth? Would he believe a story about giant alien robots? Should he let him think they were actually some advanced American weapon?

"Captain Lennox is not responsible for our presence here."

Ali Saeed and the other Qataris gaped at Bumblebee. One of them blurted something in Arabic. Lennox was fairly knowledgeable on the language and knew what he'd said. "It can speak."

"My name is Bumblebee, and this is Powerglide. We are Autobots from the planet Cybertron." He spoke first in English, the Arabic.

"Planet? What?" Ali Saeed stammered.

Simmons shook his head. "Aw, great. Everything's compromised."

"We came to your country in search of . . . an artifact that is very valuable to our race," Bumblebee went on. "We mean you no harm. We only want to retrieve what is ours, then we'll be on our way."

Ali Saeed just stared at Bumblebee, awestruck. He then looked past him, to Dirge's body and the wreckage of the Stryker. "What . . . What happened there? Did you do that?"

Bumblebee glanced over his shoulder. "Yes. We had no choice. Dirge is part of a rival group of Transformers known as the Decepticons."

"I see," said Ali Saeed.

"My apologies for bringing our conflict to your country."

Ali Saeed nodded. He then looked to Lennox. The Gazelles thumped overhead as they circled the area.

"I must report this to my superiors." He waved over his radioman, then muttered under his breath in Arabic, "If they will even believe me."

"Look, you don't want to do that." Simmons started toward them. "Let's just -"

"Stop!" Two Qataris shouted in Arabic and brought up their rifles.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Simmons held up one hand, while clutching the box to his side with the other.

"Calm down. Take it easy," Lennox pleaded in English and Arabic.

Ali Saeed turned to Simmons, then his men. He waved for them to lower their weapons, then looked back at Simmons. "You stay there."

"Sure. No problem."

Ali Saeed took the receiver from his radioman. Seconds later he was talking to someone back at his base.

Simmons stared skyward, shaking his head again. "This is gonna get out. We're never gonna keep this a secret."

"Good," said Donnelly. "People have a right to know that we're not alone in the universe."

"You've watched way too many episodes of _Star Trek, _Sergeant," Simmons told him. "You think if the world learns about aliens everyone's gonna come together in peace and harmony? Have you considered what impact this could have on religious institutions? What happens if they start giving us their technology? What if they can suddenly cure all disease or provide us with alternative forms of energy? The entire global economy could collapse."

"Oh, so that's why you've kept all this alien stuff secret." Donnelly tacked on a sardonic laugh. "How noble of you."

"Then how about this, wiseguy. What if their technology fell into the hands of someone like the North Koreans or the Iranians and al Qaeda? You're worried about them getting nukes? What if they built a bunch of weapons like Bumblebee here?" Simmons jerked his head toward the Autobot. "Turn it into a van, park it in the middle of some major city, then when rush hour comes, bam! A thing like that could wipe out most of Manhattan or Los Angeles before we could stop it . . . if we're lucky enough to stop it."

"You're talkin' a lot of what ifs." Donnelly looked at Lieutenant Ali Saeed, who was still on the radio. "I think all your fears are moot now, Simmons, if that's even your real name. Pretty soon everyone in the Qatari military is going to know about the Autobots. It won't be long before someone blabs about it to their family or friends, or maybe the press. Then what are you-"

"There's a shuttle approaching." Powerglide stared at the sky.

Lennox, Epps and Simmons followed the robot's gaze, using their hands to shield their eyes from the sun.

"I can't see shit," said Epps.

"I can," said Powerglide. "We do have better optics than you humans."

Lennox believed it. Hell, given all their other abilities, their eyesight was probably on par with Earth's most advanced telescopes. Maybe even better.

A dark dot appeared in the brilliant blue sky.

"I got a bead on it," Epps announced.

"So do I," said Lennox.

Powerglide took a step back. The big robot clenched his fists. Lennox tensed. He didn't like that body language.

"That's not Autobot."

"I agree," said Bumblebee. "That can only mean one thing."

Both Autobots brought up their arms and crouched in fighting stances. Cannons sprouted from their wrists. Missile launchers popped out of their shoulders.

Shouts went up from the Qataris. Lennox spun around, hands raised. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! They're -"

The Qataris shot. Rifle rounds pinged off the Autobots.

"Do you mind?" Powerglide barely glanced at the Qataris.

Lennox rushed over to the nearest Qatari. He grabbed the barrel of the other soldier's M-16 and shoved it toward the ground. Epps did the same to the Qatari next to him.

"Hold your fire, dammit!" Lennox yelled.

The other Qataris aimed their M-16s at him and Epps. Ali Saeed stormed over, his own rifle raised.

"Don't move!"

Lennox raised his hands. "You're shooting at the wrong robots, you idiot."

"Move away from my men!" ordered Ali Saeed. "If you touch them again, I will kill you."

"Incoming!" Bumblebee warned.

Both Lennox and Ali Saeed looked up.

Blue tracers cut through the sky. They sliced through one of the Gazelles. It blew apart in an orange and black fireball. Seconds later the other Gazelle exploded.

Lennox now had a clear view of the aircraft. With its swept wings and twin tails, it looked like a blue and gray F-15, only much bigger. Like twice the size of a C-5 Galaxy transport.

The laser fire turned on them. Bolts flashed from Bumblebee's and Powerglide's wrist cannons. Missiles shot from their shoulders and streaked toward the sky.

"Down!" Lennox shouted.

American and Qatari soldiers threw themselves onto the sand. Enemy laser bolts peppered the ground. The Autobots dove away from the barrage.

Lennox clenched his teeth as a deafening roar shook the air around them. The enormous F-15 flew overhead, then stopped in mid-air half-a-mile away. A rear hatch opened. Six giant robots jumped out, including a hulking gray one with a bucket-shaped helmet.

"Primes past save us," said Bumblebee. "It's Megatron."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	9. Chapter 9

Lennox watched Megatron step forward and raise his right arm. A black tube the size of a howitzer grew out of it.

"That is one big-ass gun," Epps muttered.

Lennox didn't answer, his mouth and throat suddenly dry. His eyes fixed on the muzzle of Megatron's cannon.

"Autobots," the Decepticon leader blared, his voice somewhere between grating and raspy. "We know you possess a fragment of the Allspark. Surrender it to me or you and these worthless fleshings will die."

"You'll kill us anyway if we give you the fragment," said Bumblebee.

"Perhaps, but I shall grant you a quicker death if you give me the fragment."

Bumblebee looked at Powerglide, then to Lennox. The Green Beret's face stiffened. The odds were decidedly against them with six Decepticons – seven, since the big jet also turned into a robot. He doubted the grenades he and his men had would do little, if anything, against Megatron's bunch. But he'd be damned if he'd let those SOBs get that fragment without a fight.

With a determined expression, Lennox nodded at Bumblebee. The golden robot also nodded, then turned to Megatron.

"As the human's say, stick it up your ass!"

Lasers flashed from the Autobots' wrists. Missiles streaked from their shoulders.

"Get your weapons!" Lennox shouted, racing down the dune. His men followed, as did Ali Saeed and his Qatari soldiers.

Lennox snatched up his M4 when the Decepticons returned fire. Bass drum-like thumps rocked the air and the ground. Lasers and missiles flashed overhead. Bumblebee and Powerglide rolled behind other dunes and sent a stream of laser fire at the Decepticons.

Lennox leaned around the dune, as did Epps. The Decepticons ran in zigzag patterns, firing as they moved. Megatron sent a large blue bolt from his cannon. Lennox and Epps ducked behind the dune. The bolt hit the wrecked Stryker. It vanished in a mass of flame and smoke. Clouds of sand soared into the air and rained down on the desert. Hundreds of grains pelted Lennox and his men.

"Let 'em have it!"

Lennox fired his grenade launcher. More thumps followed as the other Spec Ops soldiers opened up with their launchers. The Qataris joined in with their rifles. Explosions from the grenades threw up spouts of sand. One round detonated against a bulky blue and white robot with wings on its back. It ignored the blast and kept running.

Two laser bolts from Bumblebee hit the robot in the chest. It spun around and stumbled to the ground.

Lennox loaded another grenade and fired. A laser blast tore through the top of the dune. A downpour of sand battered him and the others.

"This is Spartan!" Simmons yelled into his satphone. "We're under attack." He rattled off the GPS coordinates. "Need immediate reinforcements . . . Hurricane, do you copy? Hurricane, this is Spartan. Do you read me?"

Simmons glared at the phone and turned to Lennox. A missile exploded nearby. "I can't get through to my headquarters."

"Neither can I," said Ali Saeed, who clutched the receiver of the radio set carried by one of his men. "All I can hear is a loud hum."

Lennox fired another grenade. "Yancy. See if you can raise anyone."

The Spec Ops radioman pressed the receiver of his SINCGARS against his ear. "This is Echo Lima One Five to any CENTCOM forces, do you read?"

Lasers slashed into the sand thirty yards away. Bumblebee launched a volley of missiles. Two hit a red Decepticon with a conical head. It knocked the big robot off its feet.

"Any CENTCOM forces, this is Echo Lima One Five. Please respond." Yancy turned to Lennox, shaking his head. "No joy, sir. I think we're being jammed."

"Damn." Lennox launched another grenade, hitting a boxy blue robot in the shoulder. It didn't even flinch.

Powerglide yelped as a bolt struck his arm. Bumblebee got hit in the side. The blue robot contracted and expanded, turning into small, thin helicopter with a bulbous canopy and landing skids. An exact replica of a Westland Scout. Another, larger Decepticon, with dark gray "skin," transformed into a whale-like Mi-24 Hind attack chopper.

"This is so not good," Lennox muttered. He and Epps launched more grenades as the Decepticon helicopters roared toward them.

"Geddown!"

The soldiers pressed themselves into the sand. The Decepticons rumbled overhead. Lasers sizzled around Lennox. Missiles exploded, sending tremors through the ground.

Lennox lifted his head. Powerglide struggled to sit up, sparks shooting out a hole in his chest.

"We can't hold them off," said Powerglide. "Bumblebee, get the humans out of here. I'll cover you."

"But -"

"We can't let the Decepticons get the fragment. Now get out of here."

Powerglide pushed himself to his feet. His laser cannons blazed non-stop. Missiles flew from his shoulders.

An electric grinding, whining sound came from Bumblebee. He transformed into CM-170 Magister jet, though much bigger than the normal. A hatch toward the rear slid open.

"Get in," the Autobot urged.

Lennox waved his men inside. Lieutenant Ali Saeed stared at the gold and black jet, looking hesitant.

"Hey!" Lennox shouted at the Qatari. "It's either this or you and your men die."

Ali Saeed clenched his jaw. He nodded, and led his men into Bumblebee. Lennox took off after them. He glanced to his right. Dread ripped through him when he saw two laser blasts tear through Powerglide's torso. Smoke and flame poured from the gaping wounds. The Autobot sagged to his knees. He held up his left arm, firing his lasers.

Lennox's throat tightened. He couldn't move. It didn't matter that Powerglide wasn't human, or that he'd only just met the robot. He was a fellow warrior, fighting for Lennox and his men, all of humanity. How could he just abandon him?

_If you don't leave now, the Decepticons'll get that fragment._

Lennox forced himself to look away and hurry aboard Bumblebee. The hatch slid closed the second after he stepped inside.

"Everyone hold on," said Bumblebee.

The engines roared as Lennox dropped onto a metal bench sticking out from the side. He slid to the right, pressed against one of the Qataris, as Bumblebee took off at a steep climb. When he leveled out, a glass turret formed atop the fuselage, sprouting what looked like a pair of .50 caliber machine guns.

"Lennox, man the turret," said Bumblebee, as other guns formed on each side of the fuselage and in the tail. "I need three of you to take the other turrets."

"I got this one." Epps manned the one of the right. A Qatari sergeant took the gun turret on the left, while Donnelly went to the tail gunner's position.

Lennox slid his head and shoulders up into the turret. He examined the guns for a moment.

"Bee, there's no bullets."

"We don't do bullets, Captain."

"Right." Lennox shook his head. "Aliens. Lasers. Duh."

He grabbed the fire controls and stared out the glass bubble. A shiver went through him as he saw Powerglide lying on his back, smoke billowing from him. The Decepticons gathered around him. Megatron pointed his arm down at the Autobot. Lennox flinched when he saw the laser flash. A fireball blotted out Powerglide's upper body.

Lennox banged a fist against the side of the turret. Darkness clung to his soul, guilt over leaving Powerglide to die.

_He died to buy us time. _Lennox was determined not to make the Autobot's sacrifice in vein.

Megatron took to the air, turning into an SU-30. The rest of the Decepticons transformed into other types of jet fighters. An F-22, an F-15, a MiG-29, a Mirage F1, a Saab 35 Draken and an Alpha Jet.

"Company's coming," said Donnelly.

"Yeah, I see 'em." Lennox gripped the triggers, his thumbs hovering over the fire buttons. A green, computerized gunsight popped up on the turret glass. More information appeared in front of him. Distance to targets, air speed, wind speed and direction, GPS coordinates. Whatever scanners Bumblebee had even identified the Decepticons individually. Megatron, Starscream, Blitzwing, Thundercracker, Thrust, Blackout and Rumble.

"Cool." The whole setup reminded Lennox of video game. Except in this game, you didn't get extra lives.

Tracers zipped around them. Lennox saw contrails twisting through the sky. He managed a quick burst before Bumblebee banked hard right. The missiles shot past.

Bumblebee jinked and banked and dove. It made it nearly impossible to line up a shot on any of the Decepticons. Lennox just fired shorts bursts when he could. At the very least it might slow the Decepticons down a bit.

"Bumblebee!" Lennox shouted as blue tracers zipped above him. "Can you break through this jamming? We gotta get reinforcements."

"I'm trying. I should be able to contact your forces soon."

Lennox ground his teeth. How soon was "soon?"

Bumblebee rolled and dove. Lennox held the fire controls in a deathgrip to keep from being thrown from the turret. He glimpsed contrails soaring past.

"Head out over the Gulf," ordered Lennox. "We should be able run into one of our ships or planes."

"You got it."

Bumblebee banked left. Lennox swung the turret, hoping to get a clear shot at one of the Decepticons. The gunsight crossed over Thundercracker.

Lennox fired. The tracers went wide left.

Another hard turn. Another dive. Two tracers grazed the V-shaped tail, sending a shudder through Bumblebee. Lennox fired. So did Donnelly the other gunners. Lennox couldn't tell if any of their shots connected. He glanced at the sky, then at the waters below, hoping to see American fighters or ships.

"I did it!" Bumblebee shouted. "I broke through the Decepticon jamming."

"Yancy. Let our guys know what's happening." Lennox fired another burst. Sparks flickered off Thurst's wing.

"Yeah," he cheered to himself.

"Any Coalition forces," said Yancy. "This is Echo Lima One Five. Say again, Echo Lima One Five. We require imm-"

The radioman was cut off when Bumblebee jinked right. Lennox tensed when two missiles streaked by. He felt he could reach out and touch the contrails.

"Echo Lima One Five requires immediate assistance." Yancy spoke quickly. "We are over the Gulf in a yellow jet pursued by seven enemy fighters. Any Coalition forces, respond."

"Echo Lima One Five, this is United States Navy destroyer _Carney. _We read you."

"Hallelujah," Epps blurted.

"_Carney," _said Lennox. "We have hostile jets on our tail. Tell CENTCOM to scramble everything they have."

"Roger, One Five." _Carney _then sent out the coordinates to their location. "Come to us and we'll take care of those bandits for you."

"Roger that. Bee?"

"I'm on course for your ship now. I can see it just on the horizon."

Bumblebee rolled. Lasers grazed the fuselage. He straightened out, jinked left, then right. Lennox and the other gunners laid down fire. A couple of tracers struck Blackout. He wobbled, dropped out of formation for a couple of seconds, then resumed the chase.

Lennox saw a gray, knife-shaped object with an angular island and antenna mast below. It had to be the _Carney_, an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer.

Bumblebee banked left, then right. Decepticon tracers flew all around them. Lennox fired back, glancing at the _Carney, _waiting for SAMs – surface-to-air missiles – to fly from her deck.

None did.

_What the hell? _He wondered if the Decepticons had some kind of advanced stealth capability, or if they were jamming _Carney's _radar.

Puffs of gray smoke erupted from the destroyer's bow. Probably the five-inch gun. Tracers soared into the air from the 25mm chain guns and the .50 cals. A fireball sprang from Blackout's underbelly. The disguised Saab 35 Draken rolled to the right. Another shell exploded against it. Blackout nosed over, trailing smoke as he dove toward the Gulf.

"Yeah!" Donnelly hollered. "They nailed that sucker."

"Never thought I'd say this, but go Navy," Epps added.

The elation Lennox felt vanished when he saw missiles leap from the Decepticon jets. A dozen contrails arced over and plummeted toward the _Carney. _Lennox tensed, waiting with dread for the inevitable.

Gushers of flame tore through the destroyer. The island and antenna collapsed into a maelstrom of flame.

"Dammit." Lennox bared his teeth.

Bumblebee continued to dodge Decepticon fire. Lennox and the other gunners unleashed volley after volley of laser fire. They scored a few hits, probably more through luck than skill. Yancy and Ali Saeed used Bumblebee's comms to call for support. The carrier _Harry Truman _was launching F/A-18s. Both the US and Qatari Air Forces were scrambling more jets.

Would they reach them in time?

_Will they even make any difference? _Lennox thought about how easily the Decepticons took out one of the Navy's most advanced warships. What chance would F-16s or F/A-18s have?

_Well we sure as hell aren't gonna throw in the towel._

Lennox fired another burst, missing. That's when he saw Blackout, still trailing smoke, rejoin the Decepticon formation.

More tracers flashed past him. Lennox furrowed his brow. These came from the ground.

The water gave way to brown terrain. They were over land. He checked the GPS coordinates.

"Oh shit."

They'd just crossed into Iranian air space, not far from their largest naval base at Bandar-e Abbas.

Bumblebee jinked left. Two Decepticon missiles streaked past. Lennox spotted a stubby boat with missile tubes on either side. A Thondar-class patrol boat. Its guns sprayed 23mm and 30mm shells into the air. A few sparked off Starscream and Blitzwing. They barely noticed. Starscream dove toward the patrol boat. It continued firing. Rounds flickered off the Decepticon as he transformed from an F-22 into a red, white and blue robot with rectangular arms and legs, a round head and wing-like protrusions on his back.

Starscream's feet smashed into the Thondar. A geyser of water and scrap metal flew up around the Decepticon.

A horrific crash pierced Lennox's ears. A quake swept through Bumblebee. The Autobot let out a cry of pain.

Gritting his teeth, Lennox looked to the right. His stomach dropped.

A smoking hole had formed in Bumblebee's wing.

Lasers zipped past. Two struck the tail. Bumblebee howled again as part of the tail broke off and spiraled away. His nose dipped. A high pitched whine went through the compartment as the Autobot rapidly lost altitude.

"I can't hold it," Bumblebee said in a strained voice. "Everyone brace yourselves."

Lennox clenched the fire controls as tight as possible. Sweat drenched his body. His heart slammed against his chest. He swallowed. He prayed. He thought of Sarah and Annabelle. He thought of the entire human race. Would Megatron and the Decepticons leave Earth if they got the fragment? Would they try to conquer the world? After what he'd seen them do, did the human race have –

Lennox's senses drowned in an explosion of noise.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	10. Chapter 10

Lennox gritted his teeth. Blades of pain seared his shoulder. He felt something wet and sticky on the back of his head. He reached around and touched it, wincing. Blood. He must have cracked his head against something when Bumblebee crashed.

"Everyone all right?" Lennox struggled to sit up, looking around the compartment.

American and Qatari soldiers groaned and pushed themselves to their feet. Most of them. One Qatari lay on the deck, head lolling from side-to-side, eyes half-closed. Swisher leaned against the side, clutching his arm and grimacing.

"Get out." Bumblebee's voice blared through the compartment. "Run. Don't let the Decepticons get that fragment."

The side hatch slid open.

"You heard him, guys. Move it!" Lennox waved the soldiers toward the hatch. The half-conscious Qatari was carried by Hiatt and another Qatari soldier.

Lennox and Lieutenant Ali Saeed were the last ones out. Bumblebee transformed back into a robot, a nasty, sparking gash on his left arm.

"What now?" asked Ali Saeed.

"We form a protective ring around Simmons," answered Lennox, "and we make damn sure the Decepticons don't get that fragment."

"How do we do that?"

Lennox turned to the Qatari officer, wishing he had an answer.

They'd run maybe ten yards across the dirt and rock strewn field when mechanical grinding, whining sounds surrounded them. Lennox swung around, M4 up.

The Decepticons turned back into robots. Their feet slammed into the ground. Tremors raced beneath Lennox. He whipped his head in all directions.

Megatron and his troops encircled them.

"You are the one with the fragment." The Decepticon leader pointed at Simmons. "Give it to me, and I promise, your death will be relatively painless."

The agent's jaw stiffened. Rivulets of sweat trickled from his forehead and down his face. He straightened his shoulders and pulled out his pistol. "You want it, asshole, come take it."

Lennox held his breath, his eyes flickering between Simmons and Megatron. He may not like the agent much, but he gave him an 'A' for guts.

Starscream laughed. "How amusing. The fleshling thinks his little gun can hurt us. Why don't you go ahead and shoot Megatron."

"Yes." Megatron leaned forward. "Shoot me. Give yourself the satisfaction of dying a warrior's death, for whatever that is worth."

A scowl formed on Simmons face. He continued to aim his pistol at Megatron. Several long seconds passed before the agent pulled the trigger. Three sparks flashed on Megatron's barrel chest.

The giant robot threw his head back and laughed. The other Decepticons joined in.

"As entertaining as this has been," Megatron raised his arm, "it is time to take back what belongs to me."

The enormous cannon grew out of his arm.

Gun barrels popped out of Bumblebee's wrists. The Autobot wasn't going down without a fight.

_Might as well follow your example, Bee. _Lennox didn't see where he had a choice. He raised his M4/M203 combo, his finger on the grenade launcher's trigger. Ali Saeed stood ready with his M-16. Not that his rifle would do any good against the Decepticons, but the Qatari also seemed determined to go down in a blaze of glory.

"Megatron!" Thrust pointed toward the sky. "Missiles!"

Everyone looked up. Lennox watched as several contrails streaked toward the ground. Behind it flew a white space shuttle with a rectangular blue object hanging from its belly.

"Down!" Lennox shouted.

The Americans and Qataris dropped to their stomachs.

The crash of explosions battered the air, and Lennox's ears. He lifted his head. Clouds of smoke wafted overhead. Thundercracker, Blackout and Blitzwing lay on their backs. The other Decepticons had avoided the missile strike.

Lennox stared up at the sky. Five objects tumbled out the side of the shuttle. All big. All robot-shaped.

"I think the cavalry has arrived," said Bumblebee.

**XXXXX**

"Autobots! Attack!"

Optimus Prime dove toward the ground, propelled by a jet pack. Behind him flew Ironhide, Wheeljack, Bluestreak and Springer, who instead of a jetpack took the form of an AH-64 Apache attack helicopter.

Sky Lynx fired another salvo of missiles. Optimus magnified his optics. Bumblebee and the humans hurried away from the Decepticons. They flung themselves behind a dirt berm just as the missiles hit. Fire and smoke leapt from the torsos of Blackout and Megatron. Starscream and Thrust jumped into the air, transforming into F-22 and Mirage F1 jets. Optimus banked left, then right as a hail of laser fire flashed around him. The other Autobots also flew in zigzag patterns to throw off the Decepticons' aim.

Two beams grazed Optimus's left arm. Pain shot through his circuits. He ignored it as a cannon grew out of his forearm. Optimus banked left, then climbed, then opened fire. One blast hit Starscream in the wing, staggering him.

Thrust unleashed a salvo of missiles. Optimus went into a steep dive, then twisted right. The missiles screamed past.

One exploded against Wheeljack's leg.

"Wheeljack!" Fear welled within Optimus as he watched the Autobot tumble.

"I'm fine." Wheeljack righted himself. "Keep going."

Optimus turned back around. Thrust closed in on him.

"I'm going to destroy a Prime!" The Decepticon blazed away.

Optimus jerked as four beams struck him. Intense heat rippled over his torso. He angled himself into an even steeper dive.

Optimus pulled up just before Thrust overshot him. A double-edged sword grew from his right hand. He plunged it into Thurst's underbelly. The impact rocked Optimus's body. Thrust cried out. The sword tore through his fuselage. Flames and sparks poured from the gash. The blade burst through the single engine nozzle. Thrust nosed over and corkscrewed toward the ground, trailing smoke. The Decepticon crashed into a deserted field, throwing up a tower of flame of dirt. Optimus scanned the impact crater. The mangled piece of metal did not move.

Starscream turned away from the other Autobots. Springer, Bluestreak and Ironhide fired at him. Two fireballs burst from the Decepticon's wing. He hollered in pain and headed back to the ground.

Optimus landed and saw Blitzwing aim a cannon at him. Optimus dove left. The blast sizzled by him. He fired and struck Blitzwing in the chest. The Decepticon threw out his arms and crashed on his back.

Bluestreak pulled up just before he landed and rocketed toward Thundercracker. The Decepticon turned. A missile launcher emerged from his wrist.

Too late. Bluestreak's fist cracked against Thundercracker's face.

Rumble jumped into the sky. His arm formed into a pile-driver. He rammed it into Wheeljack's chest. The Autobot bounced across the ground.

"Megatron!" He sighted his old enemy nearby.

Megatron locked eyes on him and smiled. His right hand transformed into a large battleaxe.

"Ready to die, Prime." He smiled.

"Not today."

Optimus charged. Blackout got in his way. Optimus backhanded the Decepticon, knocking him aside. Megatron crouched, battleaxe out in front of him, ready.

Optimus raised his sword and let out a battle cry as he brought it down. Megatron blocked it. The crash of metal on metal surrounded them. Optimus drew the sword back and swung. Megatron ducked and thrust out his axe. The top of it collided with Optimus's abdomen. He stumbled back. Megatron roared and swung his axe. Optimus blocked it with his sword. He then rammed the point of his elbow into Megatron's face. The Decepticon staggered back, then swung his axe. Optimus dodged it and thrust his sword. Megatron moved to the right. The blade cut through his shoulder. He howled in pain.

"I'll kill you!" Megatron slashed at Optimus, missing. "I'll rip out your circuits and scatter them across this miserable planet."

Another swing by Megatron. Another miss. Optimus lowered his shoulder and rushed forward. He rammed into Megatron and flung him over his shoulder. Optimus spun around just as the Decepticon leader crashed on his back. He drew back his sword and plunged it toward Megatron. The Decepticon rolled away just as the blade drove deep into the dirt. Megatron jumped to his feet and swung his right leg. It slammed into Optimus's waist. The Autobot leader fell to the ground.

"And another Prime shall fall before me." Megatron stomped toward Optimus, raising his battleaxe.

Optimus pulled in his legs and kicked out. Both feet smashed into Megatron. The evil Transformer tumbled through the air. He crashed to the ground, rolling across dirt and rocks.

Optimus rose. He glimpsed Bluestreak exchanging fire with Thundercracker. Beyond him Sky Lynx's battle cat form leapt at Starscream. The Decepticon punched it in the face. The battle cat hit the ground and rolled. To his left, Bumblebee and the human soldiers fired lasers, grenades and bullets at Blitzwing, who took cover behind a rock outcropping.

Megatron pushed himself to his feet. Optimus stalked toward him.

Something dropped onto his shoulder.

"For the glory of Megatron!" Rumble's right arm turned into a pile-driver. Optimus tried to grab him.

The first blow shook the world around him. _Bang! Bang! Bang! _Optimus stumbled to the left. He felt his whole head would explode. The world blurred. Optimus swung his right hand at his shoulder. He couldn't tell if he struck Rumble.

Optimus heard a deep, garbled voice. He thought he heard his name called.

A weight lifted off his shoulder. He turned, wobbling from side-to-side. Optimus held his head, feeling several dents. His vision cleared.

Ironhide had Rumble by the throat. The Decepticon's feet dangled above the ground.

"It's time to put you out of our collective misery."

Ironhide flung Rumble into the air. A six-barrel rotary launcher emerged from Ironhide's forearm. He aimed for Rumble. Missiles streaked from the launcher. All six hit Rumble. A brilliant, miniature sun consumed the small Decepticon. Flaming wreckage spiraled in all directions.

"Thanks, Iron-"

Megatron tackled him from behind. Optimus crashed face first into the ground. Quakes rattled his large body.

"Optimus!" Ironhide started toward him.

Megatron lashed out with his battleaxe. The blade sliced off Ironhide's right arm. He cried out as sparks shot out the stump. Megatron punched Ironhide in the chest, knocking him down. He then turned to Optimus, who rolled onto his back.

"The fragment is mine, Prime, and I shall claim another prize with it. Your head."

Megatron brought up his battleaxe.

Fireballs sprouted from the Decepticon's back. Sharp crashes followed and instant later. He fell forward.

Optimus pushed himself up. He drove a fist into Megatron's face. The Decepticon's head snapped back. He toppled onto his back.

High pitched screams filled the air. Optimus glanced up. Two slender aircraft with stubby wings and pointy noses shot overhead. He accessed his files on Earth.

They were F-5 Tiger II fighters. The red, white and green roundels on their sides showed them to be part of the Iranian air force. Optimus quickly called up information on the country. It was ruled by an oppressive regime that seemed intolerant of outsiders and threatened the annihilation of several countries, including the United States and Israel.

_They do not seem the sort of humans who would be eager to talk with us._

The F-5s swung around. Starscream jumped into the air and transformed into an F-22.

Unfriendly or not, he would not let harm come to the humans.

"Stop hi-"

Megatron's fist slammed down on Optimus's shoulder. He dropped to one knee.

"Your compassion for non-metallics is pathetic . . . and it will be your death."

"You've been threatening to kill me for millennia," said Optimus, "and you always fail."

He swung around. A sword grew from his wrist. The blade ripped into Megatron's side. He roared in pain and fury. Sparks and smoke burst from the wound.

Megatron fell backwards. Optimus rose, ready to continue the attack.

Megatron lifted his right hand. A nozzle sprang from it. Laser bolts spat from it. They pelted Optimus, driving him back.

"Decepticons!" Megatron staggered to his feet, clutching his side. "Retreat! Retreat!"

Blitzwing transformed into a large fighter/shuttle. He flew just a few feet above the ground, lasers lashing his side. His rear ramp dropped open. Megatron, Starscream, Thundercracker and Blackout jumped inside. Blitzwing shot into the sky.

"Shall we pursue them?" Ironhide asked.

"No. We need to secure the fragment. That's our priority."

"Yes, Prime."

The two Autobots walked over to where the humans had taken cover. Optimus searched the sky for the two Iranian fighters. He found them, or pieces of them, on the ground, burning. Victims of Starscream, most likely.

"Optimus," called out Bumblebee, who walked with the human soldiers.

"Bumblebee. It's good to see you, old friend." Optimus clasped the smaller Autobot's shoulder.

"Likewise."

"Where is Powerglide?"

Bumblebee hung his head. "I'm sorry, Optimus. He died back in Qatar covering our escape."

An emptiness formed within Optimus. Another good soldier, another friend, lost to this damn war.

He pushed it to the side. Mourning yet another dead Autobot would have to wait until the mission was completed.

He looked at the soldier next to Bumblebee. "I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots."

"Captain William Lennox," said the soldier. "U.S. Army Special Forces. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you, Captain. Are you the one in possession of the Allspark fragment?"

"Actually, that would be him." Lennox pointed to a man with tan skin and curly hair.

"Agent Simmons, United States Government," the human introduced himself. "I understand you want this fragment, and I respect that. However, I'm what you'd call a minor functionary, a cog in the big machine. I'm simply not authorized to hand over sensitive material to an extraterrestrial race we just met."

Optimus nodded. "Then I ask you direct us to a human who has that authorization."

Something rumbled in the distance. Optimus turned to the west. Dust clouds kicked up on the horizon. He saw four trucks and a pair of armored vehicles. Out in front of them flew four helicopters, Hueys according to his Earth files.

He turned back to Lennox. "I think we should conduct any further negotiations in a place where these Iranian humans are unlikely to shoot at us."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	11. Chapter 11

Optimus checked Sky Lynx's sensors. The Autobot, now in shuttle mode, circled 60,000 feet above the Arabian Peninsula. No aircraft, human or Decepticon, were near them. They should be able to conduct negotiations with the humans undisturbed.

_I only hope they listen to reason._

He looked over his shoulder. The soldier named Hiatt treated the injured Qatari near the rear of the shuttle. Across from them, Wheeljack was reattaching Ironhide's severed arm. The human officers, Lennox and Ali Saeed, checked on the injured Qatari.

"He's got a concussion and a broke leg," reported Hiatt. "We need to keep him immobile and make sure he doesn't fall asleep until we get him to a hospital."

Both officers nodded, then went around to the other humans. Optimus observed them the entire time, noting their concern for the other soldiers. Whenever encountering a new species, that was one of the first traits he looked for. How do they treat others, especially those who are wounded or unable to defend themselves?

He sensed honor and compassion in both Lennox and Ali Saeed, sensed it in many of these humans. That and a willingness to fight against impossible odds. Even with weapons that could barely scratch a Decepticon, they still fought. These humans could make for good allies, perhaps even good friends.

"_Always remember, Optimus, friend and ally are not always one in the same." _He recalled the words of his long ago mentor, Alpha Trion.

"You doing okay, um, Ironhide, right?" Lennox stared up at the gray Autobot.

Ironhide grunted. "I have had worse damage. I will be functioning optimally very soon. It would be sooner if Ratchet were handling my repairs instead of Wheeljack."

Wheeljack flicked off his laser torch. "Well Ratchet is in the Dibaka System, so you have to settle for me. And by the way, you're welcome."

"You guys are lucky," said Lennox. "You lose an arm, you can get it reattached fairly easily."

"According to my data base on this planet," Ironhide spoke, "your repair specialists, or doctors, can also reattach limbs."

"Sometimes. Usually they use prosthetic limbs."

"And has this happened to you?"

"No. A lot of other soldiers, some friends of mine, they haven't been so lucky."

Ironhide slowly nodded. "From what I have accessed about your biology, human bodies are not as durable as ours, and need more time to recover from damage than we do."

"It depends on the damage . . . or injury. Of course, some people never fully recover."

"That will likely change as your medical technology advances."

"I'm not talking about just physical injuries." Lennox pointed to his head.

Ironhide gave him a confused look.

"Sometimes," said Bumblebee, "humans are unable to deal with war and suffer mental trauma because of it. Their term for it is PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder."

Ironhide looked from Bumblebee to Lennox. "And you do not have programs within your processing core, or brain, to prevent these malfunctions from happening?"

"Considering what some of my friends have gone through, I wish we did."

Optimus' gaze fell on Lennox. He accessed his data banks for the term PTSD. His sympathy for the humans grew as he processed the information. This affliction resulted in depression, isolation, high usage of perception altering substances, even self-termination. Electric tremors went through his circuits. He couldn't comprehend the desire to want to end one's existence. All beings, from all civilizations, have dilemmas they deal with. Some minor, others serious. What sort of dilemma could be so serious that death was the only solution?

But the humans had many groups that help others deal with this PTSD. More often than not, they were successful. It was a testament to their compassion, and for those who have overcome this affliction, their strength.  
They could indeed make great allies . . . and friends.

"Excuse me, Optimus Prime."

He looked down to find Simmons standing near him, still clutching the box containing the Allspark fragment.

"Since it doesn't look like we're about to be shot at by Decepticons or Iranians, shouldn't we get started on formal negotiations."

"You are correct." Optimus raised his head. "Sky Lynx. Access the communications network of the Americans' White House."

"At once, Prime."

"Whoa," said Simmons. "You're just going to call up the White House?"

"How else do you expect us to talk with your country's leader?"

"Um, look, Prime. This is the White House we're talking about, not the local pizza joint. What, are you going to tap into the phone in the Oval Office? You know what will happen if an alien race is able to break through all that communications security with almost no effort?"

Optimus paused. "It could cause them great concern, perhaps make them suspicious of us."

"Concern?" The pitch of Simmons's voice rose. "Suspicious? How about a full-blown panic attack. If they know you can break into White House communications, they'll think you can gain access to anything secure network in the country, or the world. Not the best way to build trust."

Optimus folded his arms across his massive chest and stared at Simmons. The human had a valid point.

"Very well. Who should we contact first?"

"Call the White House Communications Agency. And you better let me talk first. If you tell them you're a robot from another planet, they'll think you're nuts."

Confusion took hold of Optimus. He wondered why Simmons was making a reference to an Earth food. Another check of his information about humans revealed the term also referred to one's sanity, or the distinct lack of it.

"Sky Lynx. Do as the human says."

"Affirmative, Prime." Moments later, he said. "Link established."

A dull, pulsing tone went through the interior. That was followed by a clipped, female voice. "White House Communications Agency."

"Please pass the following coded message to your executive director. Spartan Sierra Tango Seven Five Two Four X-Ray."

A pause, then. "Standby."

At least three minutes passed before a new voice came on, male.

"Spartan, this is Colonel Raymond. Your code has been authenticated. So what's this about?"

"Please alert your bosses to the fact that I am with . . . one of the parties involved in the today's incidents in the Middle East."

"Who exactly is this party?"

"Sorry, Colonel, but you're not authorized to know," said Simmons. "I assume you've seen my security clearance level."

"I have."

"Good. Then put me in touch with someone who has that same clearance."

"Everyone who does is currently meeting in the Situation Room," Raymond told him.

"Then put me through to the Situation Room."

A heavy pause. "Standby."

Simmons looked up at Optimus. "Sorry about this. That's the way government works. You have to go through six or seven different people before you get the one you actually want."

"A most inefficient way to operate."

"Tell me about it."

Five minutes later, a major from the White House Situation Room contacted Simmons. After more codes and cryptic talk was exchanged, the major replied, "Standby."

"We will eventually talk with this President of the United States, won't we?" asked Bluestreak.

"Don't worry," Simmons turned to him. "We will . . . maybe . . . hopefully."

Ten minutes passed before another male voice was heard. "Agent Simmons, are you there?"

Simmons's brow furrowed. "Director Banachek? You're at the White House?"

"I'm on a video feed to the Situation Room. All hell's broken loose with the attack on our JSOC base and the _Carney."_

"I figured it would, sir."

"What's the status of the NBEs?" asked Banachek.

"The hostile ones retreated when the friendly ones showed up."

"Friendly ones?"

"They're called Autobots, sir," replied Simmons. "The ones that destroyed the base and the _Carney _are Decepticons."

"Autobots? Decepticons?" The doubt in Banachek's voice was unmistakable. "You're serious?"

"You can ask them yourself. I'm in a shuttle with five of them. We'll, six if you include the shuttle itself. It's actually an Autobot named Sky Lynx."

"Sky Lynx? The alien's name is -"

"Director Banachek," Optimus interrupted. "I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. What Agent Simmons says is true. We prevented Megatron and the Decepticons from taking the fragment of the Allspark he recovered."

"Where is the fragment now?" Banachek asked in a deliberate tone.

"I still have it," said Simmons. "Optimus Prime wants to negotiate with the President for us to return it to him."

"That is not the only reason I must talk to your leader," Optimus added. "Now that Megatron knows there is an Allspark fragment on this world, he will not rest until he secures it. As you witnessed with your desert base, he will not hesitate to kill any human who gets in his way. It will be in both our interests to form an alliance. In fact, it might be the only way to save your civilization from destruction."

"Uh-huh," muttered Banachek. Several seconds passed before he said, "Standby."

There was a click over the communicator.

"'Standby,'" echoed Springer. "I'm starting to hate that word."

"Maybe we should take bets on what'll happen first," said Epps. "We talk to the President or Megatron blows up the world."

"Much as I hate to say it," said Bumblebee, "but at this rate, if I did have money, I'd have to consider putting it on Megatron."

"Ha!" Donnelly barked out. "Robot's gotta sense of humor."

Lennox stepped over to Simmons. "So this Banachek guy. What's he director of?"

"The agency I work for."

"Which is . . ."

Simmons gave him a half-grin. "Sorry, Captain. I'm still not authorized to tell you."

Lennox scowled at him.

A minute later, Banachek re-established contact. "Simmons. Do you have video communications capability?"

He looked up at Optimus, who nodded. "We do, sir."

"Good. We're going to patch you through to the Situation Room."

"Sky Lynx. Set up a secure video link between us and the White House," Optimus ordered.

"At once, Prime."

Seconds later the screen over the cockpit window flashed on. It showed a large wooden table with men and women in either suits or military uniforms. The closest man to the camera was tall, wore a dark suit and had black-gray hair. His eyes widened in surprise and his mouth started to hang open wordlessly. Quickly, the human regained his composure.

"Are you Optimus Prime?"

"I am."

The human nodded. "I'm the President of the United States, and it appears we need to talk."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	12. Chapter 12

"Let me first thank you for this opportunity to speak with you," said Optimus, who noticed Simmons, Lennox and the other soldiers snap to attention.

"You're welcome," responded the President. "Though when contacted by a race from another world, it is hard to say no, especially when said race may be involved in the escalation of tensions in a region tense enough as it is."

"I regret that our presence may have worsened the situation in the Arabian Gulf. It was never my intention to create hostilities between the nations of your planet. Our only goal was to obtain the Allspark fragment before Megatron."

"Who's Megatron?"

"The leader of the Decepticons, the faction we are at war with."

The President gave a brief nod. "So what makes this Allspark fragment so important that you'd come all the way to Earth to fight over it?"

"The Allspark is what gives all Transformers life," replied Optimus. "Its energy can animate any machine, transform it into a living being."

Several of the men and women at the conference table behind the President turned to one another and spoke in hushed tones. The human leader himself leaned back a bit, his eyes wide with amazement.

"You mean to tell me what our agent has in that box can turn anything, a car, a plane, a computer, into one of you?"

"Correct, though only to a certain degree."

"What do you mean?"

"What Agent Simmons has in his possession," Optimus answered, "is only a fragment of the Allspark itself. When fully assembled, it can rebuild our homeworld of Cybertron and create more Transformers, ones that are fully sentient, possessed of intelligence and sense of right and wrong."

"So what can the fragment, by itself, do?" asked the President.

"It can animate machines, but they will have very little intelligence, no sense of free will or self-awareness. They will be nothing but automatons, heavily armed and very dangerous automatons."

Again, the men and women behind the President spoke in whispered conversations. Optimus boosted his audio receptors in order to hear them.

"Imagine what we could do with weapons like this."

"It'd be a quantum leap for our military."

"I think it's too dangerous. What if something went wrong?"

"That didn't stop the people involved in the Manhattan Project, and they developed the weapon that ended World War Two."

"Mister President," said Optimus. "Yours is not the first race we have encountered that has come into possession of an Allspark fragment. Some have attempted to use its energy for their own needs. In every case, it has ended in disaster, on a planetary scale."

The President's jaw stiffened. All hushed conversations behind him ceased. The human leader folded his arms across his chest, stared at the floor, then looked back up. "So you want this fragment back not only to help rebuild your civilization, but to protect us from ourselves?"

"That is an accurate assessment," replied Optimus.

"You'll forgive me for this next question. What assurance do we have that you won't use this fragment to turn our machinery into robotic tanks and wipe us all out?"

A worrisome buzz went through Optimus's circuits. This was always the hard part with first contact, establishing trust. He quickly accessed his files on Earth. Despite never having contact with other races, the humans' entertainment outlets had an abundance of stories involving "aliens." The vast majority, unfortunately, portrayed them as evil monsters bent on the extermination of the human race.

_They would be right in the case of the Decepticons._

Optimus worried this might make negotiations more difficult. Books, programs and movies like _War of the Worlds, V _and _Invasion of the Body Snatchers _had probably conditioned humans to think of any being beyond Earth as a threat.

"All I can give you, Mister President, is my word. We have no desire to harm any of your people. Megatron and the Decepticons, however, are another matter."

The President gazed past Optimus. "I see, along with Agent Simmons, you have some other people with you."

"American and Qatari soldiers we rescued from a Decepticon attack."

"Qatari soldiers are with you?" blurted a bearded, hefty man at the table. "I insist they be returned to our country."

The President turned to the man and raised a calming hand, then turned back to Optimus. "Sorry about that. That's Tamim Al Kubani, Qatar's ambassador to the United States. Since the attack on our JSOC base occurred in his country, I invited him to be a part of this meeting."

"Ambassador." Optimus nodded to him. "Let me assure you, Lieutenant Ali Saeed and his men are fine, with the exception of one, but he is being cared for by one of Captain Lennox's men."

"I wish to speak to Lieutenant Ali Saeed myself."

"And I would also like to speak to Captain Lennox," said the President.

"Of course." Optimus waved the two officers forward. Both came to attention.

"Sir," said Ali Saeed.

"Mister President," said Lennox.

"Lieutenant, are you injured?" asked Al Kubani.

"No, sir. I am fine. All my men are fine with the exception of Private Sardar."

"What happened to him?"

"He was injured when the Decepticons attacked us," replied Ali Saeed. "Were it not for the Autobots, my men and Captain Lennox's men would all be dead."

"Captain?" The President looked at Lennox.

"That's the truth, Mister President. The Autobots saved our lives. It was the Decepticons who destroyed our JSOC base, along with the _Carney _and an Iranian patrol boat."

"Here's hoping we can convince the Iranians of that," said the President. "They think we sank that ship."

"I'm sure they have plenty of pilots and soldiers who saw the Transformers in action," Lennox told him.

"If they did, they probably think they're American secret weapons. They already put their entire armed forces on alert and have three squadrons of jet fighters airborne. In another few hours, they should have most of their major warships deployed in the Arabian Gulf. We could have an all-out war erupt while we're trying to deal with an alien conflict here on Earth."

"If you wish, I will assist in any way I can to resolve this crisis," Optimus offered. "But our first priority must be preventing Megatron from capturing the Allspark fragment."

"It sounds as though you're suggesting this fragment is more important than preventing a war that could engulf the entire Middle East, said the President.

"A war in that region would be terrible, there is no question about that. But it would cause great harm to only one part of your planet. This fragment has the potential to devastate your entire civilization, whether by accident or used by Megatron."

"And you feel the only way to keep this Allspark fragment safe is by turning it over to you." The President posed it more as a statement than a question.

"That is correct," replied Optimus.

The President drew a slow breath. "And if we give you the fragment, what will you do?"

"If it is your wish, we will leave your planet peacefully. But that will not end the threat posed by Megatron."

"Even if you have the fragment?"

Optimus nodded. "The Decepticons have already engaged some of your military forces. By now they will have scanned your computer networks and media outlets to learn about Earth's defenses. Megatron will consider this a weak planet and make it part of his empire."

The President's face stiffened. "And the human race?"

"He will keep some alive as slaves. The rest will be exterminated."

Optimus gazed past the President. The men and women at the conference table all stared straight ahead in silence. A few throats bobbed up and down. A scan of his files about Earth revealed to Optimus this was a sign of nervousness among humans.

_They should be nervous where Megatron is concerned. Actually, they should be terrified._

"Captain Lennox." The President turned to him. "Do you feel Optimus Prime's concerns are valid?"

"I do, Mister President. My men and I watched one Decepticon destroy our base. Just one. It took hits from several missiles with minimal to moderate damage. They know about our capabilities first hand, and I don't think they were very impressed. I think Optimus is right. The Decepticons probably think they can roll over the human race with no problem."

The President nodded. "And do you feel we can trust the Autobots."

"Yes, Mister President. We've already fought side-by-side with them. They shielded us with their bodies without hesitation. The Decepticons attacked our base without provocation. They demanded the fragment at gunpoint. The Autobots are willing to negotiate for it. Honestly, Mister President, they could have squashed us like ants hours ago, taken the fragment and be halfway across the galaxy by now. But they haven't. That says a lot in my book."

"If I may, Mister President." Ali Saeed waited for the President to nod to him before continuing. "I agree with Captain Lennox. We have no weapons that can stop them, yet even on their own ship, they have made no attempt to take this fragment from Agent Simmons by force."

"In exchange for the fragment," said Optimus, "We are willing to form an alliance with your people to protect the Earth from the Decepticons."

A thoughtful look formed on the President's face. He stared at Optimus Prime in silence for several seconds, then said, "This is a lot to digest. I'd like to have some time to talk this over with my advisors before making a decision."

"I understand."

"I'll be back in touch with you soon."

The screen went black.

Ironhide emitted a sardonic laugh. "It seems the politicians on this planet are no different from most others in this galaxy. They prefer to talk rather than take action."

Optimus looked from Ironhide to the now blank viewing screen. "Let's hope they don't spend too much time talking."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	13. Chapter 13

The President barely turned away from the blank monitor when Banachek blurted, "We can't let them get that fragment."

The President looked up at a smaller monitor above the main one. It showed the round, mustached face of Director Banachek.

_I knew that'd be the first thing he'd say._

"The Director's right," said a stout man with dark gray hair and wearing a blue Air Force uniform. "You heard what that robot said. That fragment represents an immense leap in technology for us."

"Will Qatar also benefit from this leap in technology?" Al Kubani stared at General Ted Chambliss, the USAF Chief of Staff.

Chambliss shifted in his chair. "That is something the civilian leadership would have to decide, Mister Ambassador."

"Of course," Al Kubani replied sharply, not satisfied with the answer.

A tall, slender black woman leaned back in her chair. "What about the other statement Optimus Prime made?" asked Leslie Sizemore, the National Security Advisor. "About how dangerous this fragment could be if we use it wrong?"

"Who says he's telling the truth?" Chambliss countered. "Maybe they're trying to fool us into thinking they mean us no harm, when in reality they're planning to take over the world. That fragment might be our only advantage against them. Of course they'd want us to hand it over."

"I agree with General Chambliss," said Banachek. "What we're dealing with is beyond our national security. This is a matter of _global _security."

"On that point, I agree." The President nodded. "But you saw for yourself, our people appear unharmed. Simmons still has possession of the fragment. Optimus Prime even let our men and the Qataris keep their weapons. Given what we've seen from the attacks in the Gulf, those robots could just take that fragment with barely an effort."

"Maybe they're making our men say all that," said Banachek. "They only had a handful of Autobots on that ship. As advanced as they are, it'd be, what, five or six alien robots against the combined armed forces of the world. They'd be overwhelmed. Maybe they want to ingratiate themselves into our civilization, then when we come to fully trust them, they call in the rest of the Autobot army to wipe us out."

"Or they could just take the fragment, fly back into space and rejoin the rest of their army," said the President.

Banachek exhaled and stared down at his desk for a moment. "Mister President, we cannot enter into an alliance with an alien race we've only just met. Beyond Optimus Prime's word, and the testimonies of Captain Lennox and Lieutenant Ali Saeed, which I'm still dubious of, we have no idea what their true intentions are. That fragment, and the one back at Sector Seven headquarters, could be our only means of stopping them."

"This first fragment," a fleshy-faced, gray haired man pointed his hand at Banachek. "Sector Seven has had it for how long?"

"Little over a hundred years," he answered Secretary of Defense John Keller.

"And in all that time, you haven't figured out how it works?"

The corners of Banachek's mouth curled. "No, Mister Secretary."

"Then what makes you think you can make it work to our advantage now?"

Banachek's shoulders rose with a deliberate breath. "I cannot make any guarantees on learning the fragment's secrets tomorrow or the next day or next month. But I will have my men do everything they can to find a way to use it against these robots."

"Or you have an accident and turn every machine on the planet into rampaging robots," said Keller.

"If what Optimus Prime said is true."

The President pressed his hands against the table, staring at the finely polished wood in thoughtful silence. He'd made big decisions before, ones that affected the course of the country, even the world. But what he decided next might determine whether or not the entire human race continued to exist.

He felt his heartbeat pick up. He fought the fearful tremors that threatened to take hold of his legs. How could he make a decision on the Allspark fragment and joining the Autobots after talking to their leader for only a few minutes? This was something that needed months of negotiations to hammer out.

He then thought about the JSOC base, the sunken destroyer and the Iranian armed forces practically spoiling for a fight.

_I don't think I have months. I probably don't even have hours._

Still . . .

"Given what we've seen from the attack on our base in Qatar, our weapons and our technology appear inadequate against these Decepticons. Our only hope may lie in an alliance with Optimus Prime and his Autobots."

"If they're being truthful about their intentions," said Banachek. "We have no way of knowing if they are."

"Maybe we do." A slender man with a narrow face and glasses raised his hand.

The President turned to Director of Central Intelligence Andrew Vosberg. "How?"

"I can send a recording of our conversation with Optimus Prime to some of our voice and body language analysts at Langley. They can determine with a high degree of accuracy if the Prime, and our men, are telling the truth."

"'High degree of accuracy' isn't the same as absolute certainty," said General Chambliss.

"It's the best we have."

"Do it." The President nodded to Vosberg.

"Yes, Mister President." The DCI picked up the phone in front of him.

"Meanwhile, I want all US forces brought to DEFCON Three. John," the President looked to Defense Secretary Keller, "Call NATO headquarters in Brussels. Inform them what's going on and have them bring their forces to high alert."

"Yes, Mister President."

"Mister President?"

He turned to Banachek. "Yes, Director?"

"We already had to reveal to most of the people in this room the existence of Sector Seven and the NBEs. Should we also do that with more foreign countries? Countries whose security procedures we have no say in?"

"You said it yourself, this is a global threat. We have to alert other countries what's going on. That includes Iran."

The color drained from Banachek's face. "B-But, Mister President. If we tell their leadership about alien robots and the Allspark, they'll use it for propaganda purposes, accuse us of recruiting an alien army to wipe them out or some other insane story. We read the Iranians into this, there is no way this stays a secret."

"It's a risk we have to take," said the President. "I don't want us fighting one of the largest militaries in the Middle East the same time we're in the middle of an alien war."

The President got on the phone and briefed the Secretary of State about the situation. The members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff rattled off orders into their phones. Increased AWACS surveillance over North America. The redirecting of NASA and US Space Command telescopes. They also told Coalition forces in the Gulf to give Iranian forces as wide a berth as possible. The last thing they wanted was a mistake sparking a regional war.

The next couple of hours passed slowly. The President ordered two bottles of soda water to calm his bubbling stomach. Not that it helped. Tension coiled his muscles as he feared a phone call that said the Iranians had opened fire on US forces or an alien armada had surrounded Earth.

He rubbed his forehead, thinking of Optimus Prime. Was he the ally he said he was? Was it a ploy to get them to lower their defenses?

A chill went through the President's body. He was the one who was going to have to make this call. But would his decision protect the human race, or doom it?

The President was in the middle of being briefed by the Secretary of Homeland Security on disaster relief preparations when DCI Vosberg interrupted.

"Mister President, our analysts having finished going over the recording."

The President nodded, then said into the phone, "Something's come up, Dick. I'll have to get back to you."

He hung up and looked over at Vosberg. "Put them on speaker."

The DCI nodded and hit a button on his phone. "Mister Ajayan, Ms. Ewing, you're both on with the President."

"Um, yes, Mister President," said a voice with an Indian accent. "I ran your conversation with the soldiers and the . . . um, alien through our voice stress analysis programs."

"And what did you find?"

A pause. "Um, I'm sorry to say that the results for the alien, Optimus Prime, are inconclusive."

A harsh breath shot from the President's nostrils.

"Well that was a waste of time," muttered General Chambliss.

"The problem is we have no baseline to compare with Optimus Prime," Ajayan spoke quickly, trying to defend himself. "He is not human. We have no idea what his inflections or tone indicates."

"But you were able to analyze the humans with them," said Keller. "Captain Lennox and Lieutenant Ali Saeed. What did you learn from them?"

"Their analysis was much easier." Ajayan sounded relaxed. "Our programs showed no high levels of stress in either of their voices to indicate they are lying or speaking under threat of bodily harm. In addition, all special operations soldiers in the Middle East are given a duress code, an innocuous word or phrase they use to alert their superiors they have been captured. JSOC provided me with Captain Lennox's duress code. He did not use it."

"I also observed their body langue," said Ms. Ewing. "Sometimes, when soldiers are captured and forced to read a statement by the enemy, they'll speak in a monotone or subtly cross their fingers to demonstrate they don't believe what they're saying. Neither Captain Lennox nor Lieutenant Ali Saeed did those things."

The President clasped his hands on the table and nodded as the analyst continued. "I also studied their eye movements. Many times when someone is speaking under duress, they'll pause and look sideways at their captor before talking, then do the same when their done, an indication they're wondering whether or not their captor thought they were convincing. Neither officer did this. They looked directly at the camera and spoke with conviction. Between my analysis and Anajay's, we feel certain that Captain Lennox and Lieutenant Ali Saeed were not being coerced. They were telling the truth. I'd even go as far as saying they trust the Autobots."

"Either that or those things have them fooled," Chambliss added.

The President gave the Air Force Chief of Staff a brief glance, then looked back at the phone. "Ms. Ewing, Mister Anajay, thank you for that information. It will prove valuable in making my decision."

Both analysts thanked him before Vosberg killed the connection.

The President drew a breath and slowly pushed himself back from the table. _Moment of truth._

"Ladies and gentlemen, I wish we had more time to talk with Optimus Prime, get to know him and his Autobots better, before entering into any sort of alliance with them. Trouble is, these Decepticons won't give us that time. They attacked our forces without provocation and their technology is far beyond ours. If we have any prayer of beating them, we're going to need the Autobots' help. Therefore, we will work with them to protect not just our country, but our planet. To that end, I will have Agent Simmons hand over his fragment, and Director Banachek, you will turn over the fragment housed in Sector Seven's headquarters to the Autobots."

Several people at the table shook their heads.

"Mister President, I ask that you reconsider," urged Chambliss.

"I concur," Banachek jumped in. "That fragment could be the only advantage we have over these robots."

"How is it an advantage?" the President swung around to face him. "You've had that thing since the turn of the last century and still haven't a clue how it works. And if what Optimus Prime said is true, getting it to work could have disastrous consequences for this planet. It might be in our best interests to get it away from us."

He turned to the Secretary of Defense. "John, I want you to fly down to Sector Seven headquarters in Puerto Rico. That's where we'll conduct negotiations with the Autobots. You're my point man. Formalize our alliance and start integrating our forces to counter any future Decepticon attacks."

"Yes, Mister President."

The President turned back to Banachek. "Director. Make all necessary arrangements at your end for these talks. As soon as the Autobots arrive, you're to give them the Allspark fragment, understood?"

Banachek's jaw clenched. His gaze dropped to his desk.

"Director Banachek." The President spoke in a sharper tone. "Understood?"

"Yes, Mister President." Banachek looked like he forced himself to nod.

"All right, people." The President stared at the people at the conference table. "We have a lot of work ahead of us. Let's hop to it."

**XXXXX**

Banachek stared at the blank monitor for a full minute after his connection with the Situation Room ended. Anger and worry dueled within his soul. He still couldn't fully comprehend the President's orders. Work with these aliens? That was bad enough, but to just give them the fragment?

_Fool. Stupid, naive fool!_

He rubbed his hands over his face, his stomach rebelling against him. All these decades guarding the country's most important secret, conducting endless research on this fragment. Now this damn President was pissing it all away based on a conversation with alien robots that barely lasted ten minutes.

Banachek pulled out his secure cell phone and just stared at it. He never thought it would come to this, but after the President's orders, what choice did he have?

He punched in the appropriate number. The person on the other end picked up after the second ring.

"Sir," came the baritone voice of Ron Perry, Sector 7's head of security.

Banachek sucked in a long breath before replying. "Come to my office immediately. We need to implement Order Number Nine."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


End file.
